


I'm kinda into it

by dunklenacht310



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry, Gay Sex, Harry is in Music, Harry sings, M/M, Song Lyrics, Top Zayn, University AU, Voice Kink, Zayn is a bit prejudiced against music students, Zayn is a hipster but he doesn't realize, Zayn is in English Lit, but he learns his lesson rest assured
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 09:48:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19926082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dunklenacht310/pseuds/dunklenacht310
Summary: He heard the bloke gasp and squeal, and a moment later there was a rustle and a series of slippery sounds. Then, only silence. The stranger had sure been freaked out by Zayn manifesting his presence, and ran for the door, leaving only a heavy scent of almond shower gel behind.Good job, Zayn. Now you’ll never know who it was who gave you a boner with just his voice.-Zayn has a kink for a good, low, raspy voice. When he hears someone sing in the communal showers, and he gives himself away, the guy runs. Zayn has literally no way of ever finding him again.That's a problem. Because Zayn can't get the lad's voice out of his head.





	I'm kinda into it

**Author's Note:**

> Usual disclaimer: I don't know or own any of the characters present in this work. I only own the plot.  
> The title of this work is taken from _Kiwi_ by Harry Styles.  
> The other songs mentioned in the fic are gonna be credited in the end notes.

Zayn’s eyes were going cross by the time he finally managed to type the final sentence of that fucking English paper.

He was fairly sure he needed to re-read it at least a hundred times, not to mention that he still hadn’t put most of his quotes in. Also, he had a partial bibliography at the end that needed to be revised and expanded.

Overall, though, the paper was done, and he knew he could take care of the rest after dinner. He aggressively stroked his eyes with the tips of his fingers until they only burned more and his sight went all fucked up for a couple moments.

He stood up when he regained the ability to see, and stretched. While he did that, he realized just _how bad_ he smelled, and grimaced. He needed a shower.

He got out of his room and to the kitchen, where he drank a glass of water before heading to the bathroom.

“Shower’s still broken but I hope you’re intentioned to wash yourself anyway” Louis announced his presence from the couch, where Zayn found him cuddled up under one of the blankets and reading a book that suspiciously only had an equation as a title.

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Didn’t our landlord say he’d fix it today at the latest?” he whined “Also, sorry if I stink, but I didn’t have time to smell like flowers as you do”

Louis arched an eyebrow, still engrossed in his book. “I have papers and tests due as well, but I incredibly manage not to forget my basic human needs” he declared “I baked you a cake. It’s on the table. Eat it and don’t die. I can’t pay rent on my own”

Zayn noticed the apple cake on the table of their kitchen-living room space, and smiled fondly. Louis always acted like he didn’t care about anything and anyone, but after three years of living together, Zayn knew the real story. Louis never told you _I love you_. But he baked you a cake the day before a deadline.

Zayn had found Louis by chance, when they both responded to the same ad for a house, the month before the start of their bachelor’s. They met the day in which the landlord had scheduled both of them to go see the house, and after a tour of it, they’d both agreed it was too big and too expensive on their own. But they really liked it, so they’d decided to split it and give it a try. It had been probably the best decision of Zayn’s life.

Now, with their first master’s semester about to end, they still lived together. They worked.

Zayn sometimes wished Louis would go out more, instead of just spending his time with numbers, equations and pretending to be annoyed at Zayn while baking him cakes.

Zayn sometimes wished _he himself_ would be able to go out more, instead of spending his time with English literature, papers and worrying about Louis.

But they were fine, at the end of the day. Finals period was never fun, not even for people like Zayn and Louis, who probably studied more than actually necessary.

“Thanks, mate” Zayn smiled, going directly for the cake and taking a slice, biting on it with a napkin propped under his chin to avoid any crumbs falling to the floor. Louis hated it, and Zayn could give him that, for the amazing _heaven_ he’d just baked.

Louis finally raised his head from the book, and he sighed a little, smiling back. Louis could pretend he was a stone-hearted mathematician all he wanted, but Zayn knew there were very few people who could resist his Smile.

“Where did _you_ shower, then?” Zayn then asked, noticing how Louis’s hair was still a bit wet, and how he smelled like his pine shower gel.

Louis chuckled. “Zayn, brace yourself for this incredible piece of information I’m about to give you” he said “If you go out of the house, and cross the street, there’s our _campus_ there, and they have _showers_! Crazy shit, right?”

Zayn gaped at the thought of Louis using the communal showers, but managed to recover from the surprise very quickly. He laughed, and balled his napkin, throwing it at Louis’s face. Louis defended himself with his book, still snickering, and when the napkin throw failed, Zayn slowly approached Louis, trying to hug him. “Keep your germs away from me!” Louis shrieked, kicking Zayn in the stomach in his attempt to avoid being hugged.

Zayn chuckled, and left Louis alone, headed for the bathroom. “Okay then. I’ll go to our campus and I’ll use the knowledge I’ve just been bestowed” he announced loudly, starting to gather his shower gel, shampoo, and other necessities.

“If you’re not alone, watch out for your soap bar!” Louis shouted with a giggle, like he was very pleased with himself for that joke.

Zayn rolled his eyes. “At least it wouldn’t be just my hand” he replied dramatically.

Louis was eating a slice of his own cake, probably, because Zayn heard him snort and almost choke, clearly amused by Zayn’s recent lack of sexual action.

He grinned at Louis on his way out of the house. “Don’t choke” he told him “If you need help with training your gag reflex, I can teach you wonders”

Louis rolled his eyes. “I’m good, I think, Zayn. I’ve been told my gag reflex is almost non-existent, so you see, it’s just that I’m a bit rusty ‘cause I’ve been lacking action, same as you”

Zayn snorted a laugh. “Finals season is almost over, and then we’ll find a way to get laid!” he shouted from the door.

“Yeah, I’m sure we’ll both have a line at our front door the _second_ the last deadline’s over!” Louis replied.

+

The shower room of the gym—the closest building to Zayn and Louis’s place—was empty when Zayn entered it, and so much cleaner than Zayn was expecting.

It wasn’t that he ran on jock and athlete stereotypes, but the ones populating their university weren’t exactly known for their impeccable hygiene, to say the least.

The shower room, though, looked squeaky clean, from the black marble tiles on the floor to the white ones of the walls. Zayn got naked in the changing room, stuffing his clothes, wallet and phone in a locker and then wrapping a towel around his hips. He slid the rubber band with the locker key around his wrist and made his way to the showers holding his shampoo. He forgot his flipflops, so he took care of walking extra carefully to the actual showers. He didn’t wanna slip and split his head open, because it was almost eight, and with the shower room completely deserted, there was a good chance nobody would find his body before the morning after.

Zayn chuckled to himself at the dramatic thought. Maybe he was slowly morphing into Louis. Still walking slowly and quietly, he got inside the first shower he saw, closing the opaque door and hanging his towel over it.

Before he could even turn on the water, someone started to sing, loudly and abruptly, and gave Zayn a heart attack.

_She worked her way through a cheap pack of cigarettes_

_hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect_

Zayn bit hard on his bottom lip to avoid squealing like a pig, and he pressed a hand to his chest. Whoever was singing scared the living shit out of him. Who the fuck starts to sing in an empty room so fucking loudly and without any warning of them even _being_ there?

_And all the boys, they were saying they were into it_

_Such a pretty face on a pretty neck, she’s driving me crazy_

_But I’m into it, but I’m into it, I’m kinda into it_

The voice was definitely a male, and he was really good, Zayn had to admit.

Recovered from the shock, Zayn stood there very quietly, mildly freezing because he was naked and with the shower still not going, listening to some bloke sing as loudly as he could. Zayn heard him opening his own shower, and realized he probably just walked in, shortly after Zayn, and thought the shower room was empty because Zayn was walking so carefully and slowly that he wasn’t making any noises.

But now it would be awkward if Zayn made his presence known, wouldn’t it? So he didn’t, and the bloke kept singing with his raspy, drawly voice.

_It’s New York, baby, always jacked up_

_Holland Tunnel for a nose, it’s always backed up_

_When she’s alone, she goes home to a cactus_

_And she wears a black dress, she is an actress, she’s driving me crazy_

Zayn had never heard the song before, and he made a mental note of the lyrics to look them up later, because it was quite catchy.

The guy seemed completely absorbed in his singing and showering, so Zayn deemed it safe to open his own shower. He did so, very slowly and wincing, but the guy didn’t even notice, because his voice, sweet and crooning and powerful, didn’t falter.

_I’m having your baby, it’s none of your business_

_I’m having your baby, it’s none of your, it’s none of your_

_She sits beside me like a silhouette_

_Hard candy dripping on me ‘til my feet are wet_

_And now she’s all over me, it’s like I paid for it_

_It’s like I paid for it, I’m gonna pay for this_

The bloke’s voice became just a moan on the last sentences, low and gritted, and Zayn really hadn’t gotten laid in forever, hadn’t he? He stared down at his traitorous dick jumping to attention for a man he literally hadn’t even seen. It was just, Zayn liked raspy voices. And the singing drawl of the stranger on the other end of the room was doing _things_ to Zayn’s tired, sex-deprived body.

The guy finished the song, and then sighed. “I wonder if people are even gonna like it” he murmured to himself.

“I sure do” Zayn said, and then cursed himself, fighting the sudden urge of smashing his own head into the shower wall.

He heard the bloke gasp and squeal, and a moment later there was a rustle and a series of slippery sounds. Then, only silence. The stranger had sure been freaked out by Zayn manifesting his presence, and ran for the door, leaving only a heavy scent of almond shower gel behind.

_Good job, Zayn. Now you’ll never know who it was who gave you a boner with just his voice._

+

Zayn still had the voice of the guy singing about a baby, an actress and a cactus stuck in his head when he woke up the next morning.

Louis was already on the couch with a couple books and notebooks open when he showed up in their common space. They grunted at each other, which was “good morning” in Louis and Zayn, and then Zayn sat down at the breakfast bar— _every meal_ bar, technically—with a bowl of milk and cereal.

He opened his phone browser, and typed in _when she’s alone she goes home to a cactus_ , hitting search.

He came up with only pictures of cacti, and no trace about the song. While he ate, he tried to remember the other lyrics of the song. There was something about _Holland Tunnel for a nose_ , so he searched for that, but no song came up either. Zayn tried the other words he could remember, like _hard candy dripping on me_ , and that only produced food kink results, so he grunted and gave up.

“What’s wrong? You’re grunting but it’s not your usual morning grunts” Louis asked from the couch.

Zayn shook his head and shrugged. “Just a song I heard while I was showering yesterday, I can’t find it”

Louis frowned. “How were you listening to music in the shower? Your phone’s not waterproof, Zayn. And even if it was, it’s still risky to expose it to the foam of soap. It’s…”

Zayn laughed at Louis immediately listing all the cons of the case, as he usually did. “No, no” he amended “I didn’t bring my phone in the shower, don’t worry, my beautiful new phone is safe. It’s just, there was this guy singing this song”

Louis arched his eyebrows. “A guy singing a song under the shower” he repeated.

“Yes”

“Was he fit?”

“I don’t know, because I didn’t even see him. He thought he was alone, and then I gave myself away, and he ran. The song was good though” Zayn replied.

Louis grinned knowingly. “Did he have a very crooning tone and you scared him away by popping a boner?”

Zayn rolled his eyes. Sometimes he wished Louis didn’t know him so well. “As a matter of fact, no, I just said something out loud and he freaked out and ran”

Louis grinned some more. “But you did pop a boner. I can see it on your face. You look embarrassed”

Zayn promptly ignored Louis, and resumed his breakfast.

“ _I_ met a bloke at the showers too, yesterday” Louis said after a moment.

Zayn’s attention perked up at that, because Louis spoke in a lower tone, and closed his book, putting a highlighter in it not to lose the page. “You did?”

Louis nodded. “Yeah. He was, like, fit” he said a bit embarrassedly “He’s doing his master’s in History. And he might have asked for my number”

Zayn almost choked. “In the showers? That’s, um, bold?”

Louis rolled his eyes and threw another highlighter at Zayn. Zayn ducked it, and it thumped on the linoleum floor. “Not in the showers, you dickhead” Louis growled “Afterwards, when I got out. He was smoking outside the gym building, and he came up to me and asked. Looked proper embarrassed. I might have given him the number”

Zayn gaped. It wasn’t that Louis didn’t do hook-ups. He was no stranger to making out with strangers at parties and having sex with people when he had the chance, or better, the few times that he actually bothered to go out. But in three years, Zayn had rarely seen him give his number to anyone, and even when he did, he never answered their calls or texts.

“Don’t look at me like that” Louis said “I was distracted by his biceps. And I’m just as sex-deprived as you are”

“I’m not sex-deprived” Zayn retorted, which was a blatant lie.

Louis arched an eyebrow. “You got a boner just by listening to someone sing”

“The voice was raspy. You know I have a bit of a kink for that”

Louis laughed. “Yeah. It’s embarrassing, honestly”

“Don’t change the subject” Zayn quickly spurred him on “So, you gave this…”

“Liam”

“You gave this _Liam_ your number yesterday. And you didn’t tell me right away” Zayn jokingly glared.

Louis rolled his eyes. “I thought it was nothing, that he’d just call me to hook up and I’d say yes ‘cause he’s fit and ripped and he apparently likes maths but he’s shit at it”

Zayn graciously didn’t comment on the fact that Louis had already gathered info about this bloke and filed it in his big head. “But?”

“I never said there was a but” Louis amended.

Zayn chuckled. “You said you _thought_ it was nothing. But?”

Louis grunted frustratedly. “But he’s like, texting me _normally_? Like, stupid things about _what are you up to_ and pictures of the café he works at and all that?”

Zayn felt mixing feelings tighten his stomach. On one side, maybe this Liam bloke really just enjoyed talking to Louis. On the other hand, Zayn didn’t trust people, especially around Louis, because Louis could be snarky and careless all he wanted, but he actually got attached—and hurt—pretty easily. And Zayn felt as protective of Louis as he felt of his little sisters. Which was a lot.

“Do you like him?” he asked Louis, gently, because sometimes Louis just closed off when he felt too exposed.

Louis sighed. “I’ve spoken to him in person for ten minutes, and then only via text this whole morning. I don’t have enough data to say if I like him or not”

Zayn smiled, and he deemed it best not to tell Louis that some things were not a question of data, but just unpredictable and out of any scheme, equation or probability distribution. “But based on what you have. Do you think you might like him?”

Louis shrugged. “Yeah, maybe” he said at last “He invited me to a party next weekend in the Art building. I said yes and that I’d bring my friend”

Zayn’s insides churned. “And who is this friend you’re gonna bring?”

Louis laughed. “I only have the one friend, I’m afraid. He’s a shithead and he gets boners in showers just listening to a bloke sing”

“Oh, fuck” Zayn rolled his eyes “Me? At a grungy party?”

“It’s not hosted by the music hipsters” Louis assured “Help me get laid, Zed. I swear I’ll return the favour”

Zayn sighed. “So this Liam’s a grungy?”

It wasn’t that Zayn was prejudiced against the people in the Arts department. He himself drew and painted when he had time. But the Arts and Performances Department students—or the _grungies_ , as Louis and Zayn called them—were a snob army of hipsters, always thinking they were the only ones who ever read a book or watched a play or took a fucking picture, and Zayn mildly hated them. They spent their lives splayed on the grass of the campus, writing in their bullet journals or plucking the chords of their guitars, and they used words like _hyperbolic_ to mean an adjective for people and not a narrative tool.

Louis had started using the word ‘grungy’ for them when he read in one of Zayn’s papers that the word actually used to only mean ‘something filthy, not clean’, before it became a real ‘current’.

“No” Louis replied “Liam’s not a grungy. He’s just doing his master’s in History. But he’s got friends who are in the grungy department, and if you can’t be nice to his friends, I’m gonna go by myself. I want you to come with me, but not if you’re gonna insult his friends in his face and push good dick away from me without letting me even kiss it goodbye”

Zayn snorted, almost choked on his last mouthful of cereal, and then laughed openly. Louis joined him after a moment, and Zayn had to give it to him, that he looked… _excited_ about Liam inviting him.

“Okay” Zayn sighed “I’m gonna come with you to a grungy party. What do you even _wear_ to grungy parties?”

Louis sighed dramatically. “I know you don’t wanna hear it, Zed” he said slowly “But your taste in clothes is shamefully close to the grungies’, my friend”

Zayn ignored Louis, because he kinda knew, and he tried to live with it every day of his life.

+

The week—and all the deadlines—went by quickly, in a blur of turning in papers and having exams. Zayn and Louis almost didn’t have time to speak to each other, but when their last exam was done, casually the same day at the same time, Zayn waited for Louis outside the science building to go get a well-deserved ice-cream.

While Zayn waited, he realized he was humming the shower bloke’s song under his breath.

Again.

Zayn had never stopped thinking about the guy’s voice since the incident in the gym showers had happened, and he’d tried another couple of times to find the mysterious song, without results.

He’d then come to the conclusion that the song didn’t exist, because it was an original, or something the guy was making up anyway, and there was no way Zayn would ever find either the song or the singer.

The thought bummed him a little. His voice was really… raspy. And good.

Louis made fun of him whenever he caught Zayn humming the song under his breath, and told him that he could go to the grungy department and shout if there was anyone who ever wrote a song about cacti.

Zayn always hit him in the shoulder, and the mere thought the guy with the voice could be a grungy made his skin crawl. Louis rolled his eyes at Zayn every time, and told him he was being a prejudiced dickhead, which was rich, considering that Louis had _invented_ a term for them. Well, not really invented. But he’d been the one to name them, either way.

But yeah, maybe Zayn was a tiny bit prejudiced against the grungies. He promised himself to tune it down for Louis’s sake. If he really liked, or wanted to like, this Liam guy, Zayn would be nice to every fucking grungy on the planet.

Okay, maybe not _all_ of them. But at least a couple.

+

“Oh, Jesus Christ” Zayn murmured when he and Louis got to the Art building.

The yard was swarmed with people, everybody not caring—or pretending not to—about it being the second fucking week of December. “It’s an _outside_ party?” Zayn almost shrieked.

Louis shrugged. “Their rebellious souls can’t be tamed by four walls, Zayn” he declared with a posh tone.

Zayn snorted a laugh. “We’re gonna freeze”

“Nah. Look, there’s heaters all around” Louis replied, pointing at the fair amount of those vintage heaters that looked like gigantic mushrooms, dispersed over the yard, next to each of the many tables where people were distributing free drinks.

“Grungy” Zayn commented “And hipster. Why do they have to only love things that have stopped being used in the twentieth century?”

Louis laughed. “C’mon, stop rolling your fucking eyes. I want a drink. We’re free of exams and free to get laid, Zed. This is gonna be fun”

“What have you done with Louis?” Zayn asked, letting Louis drag him towards the closest drink table nonetheless.

They both asked for a Jack and Coke, Louis asking the brunette lad manning the table to fill his personal glass he had brought. Zayn glared around, ready to fight whoever dared comment on that, but no one did, and the drinks guy didn't bat an eyelash. Good for him.

Once they both had their Jack and Coke in their hands, they stood next to one of the mushroom heaters, and Zayn took a sip, hoping it would warm him up a little. He’d worn his favourite leather jacket—there were a _lot_ of people wearing leather jackets around, he noticed with a scoff—and he loved it very much, but it wouldn’t do much for a whole night spent outside almost in the middle of December.

Oh, well.

“Louis! You came!” someone exclaimed.

Zayn almost gaped at the way a warm smile spread over Louis’s face as soon as he heard the voice. He didn’t have to ask if the guy coming over to them was Liam, because Louis had given Zayn very vivid descriptions about him, and Zayn could recognize the buzzcut, the broad shoulders and the biceps under a red sweater, and the puppy eyes. The puppy eyes had been the thing Louis had talked about the most, not that Zayn had pointed it out.

_He is really gonna like this bloke_ , Zayn thought with a smile when he saw Louis hug Liam. Louis never hugged strangers. The only physical contact with strangers he tolerated was sex, and sometimes Zayn thought that even then, Louis wished sex could happen without touching. Louis had been made fun of more than once during their bachelor’s, for the way he always stood at a safe distance from people when he spoke to them, or the way he always washed his hands a bit longer than necessary, or the way he brought his own cutlery and glass to the university cafeteria.

Zayn knew Louis’s germaphobia was selective, because Louis didn’t have a problem with touching Zayn, drinking from Zayn’s glass or generally letting Zayn _contaminate_ his surroundings. And same went for Louis’s family. But with strangers, or with places Louis didn’t know well, it was a whole other kind of deal.

Maybe it was getting better, though. Louis had gone to communal showers without having a major freak-out, and now he was hugging this Liam lad without a second thought.

“I’m so glad you came!” Liam exclaimed when they separated “I thought, like, so many people, maybe you didn’t, like, want to be around them”

Louis smiled. “I’m a germaphobe, Liam, not a cloistered nun” he replied.

Liam laughed nervously, and Zayn chuckled. _So he even already told him his weakness. This is Louis’s version of fucking_ wooing _someone_.

Louis noticed Zayn’s chuckle, and embarrassedly scratched the back of his head. “I might have had a little bit of a freak-out when I saw how dirty the showers were. Only a _tiny_ freak-out though!” he confessed, wincing a little, because he hadn’t told Zayn that detail.

Zayn had found the showers _squeaky clean_ less than an hour after Louis had gone there, but Louis’s definition of _squeaky clean_ probably involved a fire-cleansing, so there was that.

“Liam helped, though” Louis grinned “He carefully made me stand back and he cleaned the shower walls with his pineapple shower gel. Smelled like fucking Costa Rica afterwards, I swear”

Zayn barely managed to hold himself back and _not_ hug Liam to thank him for not having judged Louis a freak and left. And they hadn’t even been introduced yet. This Liam bloke must be magic or something.

Liam smiled. “Eh, it was nothing. I’m a bit freaked out by spoons. So I understand weird phobias”

Zayn almost snorted, and Louis laughed openly. “Look at us, all ready for the loony bin” he declared “Liam, this is my best friend and roommate, Zayn. He’s afraid of grasshoppers”

Liam’s eyes shot open in a surprised expression. “Understandable” he then commented with a smile, shaking Zayn’s hand “They can cut you if they get too scared”

“Right?” Zayn exclaimed, suddenly feeling even more well-inclined towards Liam “Tell him!”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay. Grasshoppers, bad motherfuckers”

Zayn laughed. He’d never seen Louis so carefree and at ease in a new, unexplored setting before, and if it was thanks to Liam, then Zayn had nothing to do but mentally thank the bloke.

“So, are you enjoying the party?” Liam asked.

Louis discreetly kicked Zayn in the shin before Zayn could even _think_ about snorting at the question if he was liking a grungy party. Liam didn’t seem to notice anyway. “Yeah, tons!” Louis exclaimed brightly “There’s free drinks and I overheard someone saying there’s also gonna be live music”

Liam smiled. “Yeah, the people in Arts and Performance can be a bit intense at times, but they’re good at throwing parties. And at being friends with me, though only a couple of 'em” he said, pointing at a blonde lad currently mixing drinks at one of the tables “That’s Niall, one of my two roommates. He’s Irish, he’s in the Photography master’s, and he makes a mean Irish Redhead. Although never tell him that there are other kinds of whiskey apart from Jameson”

“Are there?” Zayn grinned, kinda agreeing with the unknown Niall person on that one.

Liam chuckled. “You’re gonna get along” he declared “And then there’s Harry, he’s in Composition but I can’t find him at the moment, he must have gone off somewhere to get some quiet. He’s gonna be the singer for tonight, he was a bit nervous about all these people coming”

Zayn suppressed an eyeroll. Music hipsters. His least favourites among the grungies.

Louis sent Zayn a warning glance even if Zayn managed to perfectly keep his cool, and then smiled at Liam again. “Wonderful. Let’s get more drinks?” he asked, his own drink already over, the glass empty.

Liam nodded. “Yeah, might do with another” he said.

Zayn conveniently still had his drink half full, which he used as a blatant excuse to leave Louis alone with Liam and send them off with his blessing. “I’m good, you go” he said smiling angelically at Louis “You’ll find me here trying not to freeze”

“Oh” Liam frowned and then smiled, handing Zayn the second sweater he had, the one he was holding without wearing it “Here, I’ll lend you this. I mean, it’s not mine, it’s Harry’s, but Harry won’t mind, he understands the curse of these parties. He’s always complaining about freezing his arse off ‘cause people don’t wanna have parties inside”

Zayn chuckled at that, but he shook his head. “No, it’s okay, it’s fine”

“Take it” Liam insisted “We’re gonna be here for a while still, you need it more than I do, I’m fine with this, I was just holding it for Harry” he said, patting his admittedly very thick-looking sweater “You’ll give it back when you go home, it’s no big deal, I swear”

Zayn sighed, but he accepted the dark blue sweater in the end, because he was fucking freezing. He winked at Louis when he went off with Liam, and then he took off his leather jacket, sliding the sweater over his head.

It was very, very warm, and comfortable, and it smelled like almonds. Zayn shrugged his jacket on top of the sweater. This Harry lad must smell really nice, he thought distractedly as he finally warmed up his nose against the plush inside of his borrowed new heat source.

He balled his fists in the long sleeves to cover his hands as well, and then turned when he heard a deafening static sound coming from his left.

Everybody hissed and complained about the noise until it stopped, a couple seconds later.

It came from a small stage, where a guy in skinny jeans, a dark blue pullover, and long, curly hair was fussing over a microphone, setting it on a stand and then lowering it until it was at a decent height for him to sit on a stool and place his lips on the mic. _That must be Harry_ , Zayn thought.

He couldn’t quite see him that well, considering how far he was, but Zayn didn’t plan on leaving the heater unless someone paid him a couple thousand pounds.

“Hello, I’m Harry” Harry said into the mic, cradling a guitar in his lap and clearing his throat “Wow, you’re a lot of people”

“Come on, sing!” someone shouted.

Zayn glared at the anonymous person. _Cut him some slack. He’s nervous. Liam said so_ , he thought, and then he frowned at himself, because he was defending a grungy he didn’t know in his head.

_It must be the alcohol_ , he decided.

Harry chuckled nervously. “Yeah. Yeah. Okay, so the first one is a Kanye West cover. This is _Ultralight Beam_ ” he said, and started playing his guitar.

Zayn arched an eyebrow, because _what do grungies know about Kanye?_

It was one of Zayn’s favourite songs, too, and he dreaded the way that Harry lad would murder it for sure. He sighed, his drink already over, and he immediately turned to go get another one really quick before going back to the heater.

The blonde lad—Niall, Liam had said—gave him an Irish Redhead with a very enthusiastic smile after Zayn asked for one, and Liam was right, it was really fucking good, Zayn approved after a couple sips.

_We’re on that ultralight beam, that ultralight beam_

_This is everything_

Zayn’s insides did something funny. His stomach closed off a little bit at the gritted voice coming from the stage, and he abruptly turned to look at the Harry bloke, his drink swaying in his hand.

Well, Zayn wasn’t expecting him to modify the song that much and still sound more than just a little good. Zayn couldn’t see Harry well, but he could see that Harry wasn’t looking at anyone, he just kept his eyes closed, and sung, and he was _good_.

“Fucking hell” Zayn muttered to himself.

His feet took him closer without his permission. Before he could realize it, he was walking among people saying ‘sorry’ and ‘excuse me’, and then he found himself in the first row of the audience, right under Harry’s nose, and Harry was still singing with his eyes closed.

_I’m tryna keep my faith, but I’m looking for more_

_It’s holy war, it’s holy war_

It didn’t even _sound_ like the Kanye West song, and Zayn usually didn’t like when people modified songs too much, but there was… something about this. It sounded amazing, like Harry was pouring everything he had into the song, and that was saying something, because Zayn didn’t even _know_ the bloke.

His voice was on the right edge of rough, crooning and raspy in the way Zayn liked, and Zayn kept staring at Harry while he didn’t look at him.

Then, Harry raised his voice, singing louder and with more force than before.

_We’re on that ultralight beam, ultralight beam, baby_

_This is everything_

“Fucking hell” Zayn whispered to himself, the drink forgotten.

He forced himself to close his mouth and to _please please please don’t get a fucking boner like it happened with the shower guy_ , he told himself. But this was different, it was more than just a good voice, it was the passion and the torment and the desperation exuding from every fucking note Harry was singing.

_I laugh in my head, maybe my ex_

_looking back like a pillar of salt_

Zayn started mouthing the words with Harry, without singing them out loud with him.

And at some point, Harry finally opened his eyes, and they made eye contact.

Harry could have been looking at anyone in that zone, but there was something that just cracked inside Zayn, and told him, _he’s looking at you_.

So Zayn held Harry’s gaze, the drink getting warmer where Zayn had his hand wrapped around the cup without drinking, and shivers going up Zayn’s spine, caused by Harry’s voice rather than the cold December air.

Harry smiled. It was sheepish, almost embarrassed, and it went away as quick as it came, when he lowered his eyes to his guitar and a curtain of curls hid his face. But Zayn didn’t stop looking at him.

Harry sang for more than an hour. It was just covers, and yet there was always something _new_ about those songs, in the way Harry had modified them to make them _his_ , and Zayn was mesmerized, the drink getting warmer and warmer while his hand holding it got colder and colder, and he didn’t even care.

At some point, he felt people shift around him, maybe going away because they’d lost interest. It wasn’t Zayn’s case, and in that moment, he honestly didn’t care if he was left there alone as the only audience.

“He’s good, ain’t he?” someone whispered next to him.

It was Louis, his cheeks red from the cold, and with him were Liam and Niall. Harry’s friends were looking to the stage with small smiles and proud expressions, and Zayn understood they were really close, more than just roommates, because he recognized on their faces the same proud expression he himself wore for Louis when he overcame his small fears, like going to a communal shower or giving his number to a bloke just for the sake of it.

“Yeah” Niall answered “He was so fucking nervous. We were worried, he’s never nervous about singing. I guess tonight was a bit different”

“Lots of people” Liam replied instantly “He felt self-conscious, our Hazza”

“Baby of the house” Niall nodded with a chuckle.

Zayn kept his eyes on Harry, and to him, he didn’t look like a baby _at all_. He had broad shoulders which Zayn could see even under the thick, dark blue pullover he was wearing, and as soon as Harry had abandoned the stool and started singing on his feet, it had been clear he was also tall, a good couple inches taller than Zayn. He had delicate facial features, like the green eyes and the dimples and the lovely long curls, but there was something wicked in his gaze as well, like he could be romantic and recite you poetry while at the same time giving you the blowjob of your life.

_Nope, stop that thought right there_ , Zayn told himself, because he’d managed not to pop a boner until then, and he was not gonna lose because of the combination of Harry’s rough voice and the image of him giving head. _Maybe he’s even straight. And either way, no. You’re here to wingman Louis, not to get laid yourself._

Harry was done with his set after that last song, _Torn_ by Natalie Imbruglia. He finished the song, smiled a bit embarrassedly as everybody clapped—Niall and Liam whooping and being generally louder than anyone—and then thanked the audience, disappearing from the stage.

“Let’s go fetch him and bring him a drink” Niall told Liam “He needs it” he added with a snicker.

Liam laughed, and Zayn found himself following them with Louis. He suddenly realized he was still wearing Harry’s sweater, and it would be so fucking awkward, but what was he supposed to do, just strip on the way to the stage? It would be even more awkward. Louis probably understood Zayn’s dilemma, and he just grinned. Zayn noticed he was holding hands with Liam, or well, holding pinkies. Zayn smiled like an idiot to himself. _Please be a good one, Liam_ , he prayed silently.

When they circled the small stage and ended up behind it, Zayn had a clear vision of Harry’s arse as he bent over to carefully put his guitar in its cover. The super skinny jeans Harry was wearing did literally nothing to mask the perfect shape of his ass, the long, lean lines of his thigh muscles, and the general _firmness_ of Harry’s lower body. Zayn gulped down, realizing his mouth was watering.

Louis noticed, because Louis noticed everything, and kicked Zayn in the shin with a smirk.

“Hazza, that was sick!” Niall exclaimed.

Harry gasped and turned to face them, a hand to his chest and his cheeks extremely red. “You scared the _shit_ out of me, Niall” he sighed, but then smiled “Was it any good? I saw…”

“Harry, this is Louis!” Liam interrupted him cheerfully “And this is his best friend, Zayn”

Louis and Zayn took a step closer, and Harry gaped a little for no reason. Zayn frowned, and decided the lad was still a bit high on adrenaline, probably, and very much in need of a drink.

“Hi!” Louis exclaimed, stretching out his hand “I’m Louis”

Harry shook his hand, and Zayn mentally complimented Louis for not flinching when their hands met. He didn’t even discreetly wipe his hand on his jeans afterwards. _Baby steps_ , Zayn thought with a smile.

“Hey. I’m… I’m Harry. Harry Styles” Harry said, and it took Zayn a moment to realize Harry was speaking to _him_.

“Oh, yeah, sorry mate, got distracted. I’m Zayn. Malik” he replied, also shaking Harry’s hand.

Harry nodded, his mouth still a bit open, and then his eyes landed on Zayn’s chest. “You… you’re wearing my sweater” he commented, like he couldn’t fucking believe it.

Zayn felt his cheeks get warm. “Yeah, like, sorry about that, I was fucking freezing and Liam insisted, but like, I’ll give it back to you right now” he said, starting to pull it over his head while he noticed Liam smiling at Harry with a shit-eating grin.

“No, no, it’s totally okay!” Harry exclaimed, his hand wrapping around Zayn’s arm to stop him “I don’t need it, I have, like, two sweatshirts under this pullover” he told Zayn, pulling a little at the collar of his own pullover “And it is fucking freezing, so keep it. Sorry about my course mates. They apparently prefer freezing their arses off over having a winter party _inside_ like normal people. Don’t ask. We’re weird motherfuckers”

_Don’t I know it_ , Zayn thought with an internal sigh. “Okay then, cheers. I’ll give it back before going home, I swear” he only said out loud.

“So, Harry, I was told by Liam you were good, but now I can actually say it myself after watching you perform with my own eyes” Louis said with a smile “Your friends said you were nervous?”

Harry chuckled embarrassedly as they all made their way towards the drink tables. “Yeah, like, I dunno, I thought there would be less people, and…” he didn’t finish his sentence, and just wriggled his fingers in the air in a gesture that meant nothing at all.

Harry talked with his hands a lot, Zayn noticed. Whether he was embarrassed, laughing, or just commenting on something, his hands were in the air, moving and twisting, mesmerizing Zayn because Harry had long fingers covered in chunky rings. Zayn wondered if Harry kept his rings when he had sex, and then shook his head, scolding himself. _Get a fucking grip, Zayn. Louis is right. You_ are _sex-deprived._

“Do you also do originals?” Louis asked Harry after Niall had filled all their cups and Louis’s glass with Irish Redheads.

Harry smiled, and nodded, shaking his hair a little bit and then combing it backwards with a flick of his long fingers. “Yeah, I do” Harry replied, lower than before, and the slow drawl crawled right up Zayn’s crotch “But I haven’t ever sung any of ‘em to an audience yet. They’re still, like, a work in progress” he added, sheepishly.

_Are you this sheepish when you ride dick, Harry Styles?_ , Zayn wondered, not bothering to scold himself and keep his thoughts in check anymore. He was on his third drink, Harry Styles was fit, his voice was rumbly, and Zayn didn’t give a fuck anymore.

“You like it?” Harry then asked Zayn, staring at him in the eyes a little intensely, and maybe Zayn had spoken out loud and fucked everything up?

He stuttered. “What?”

Harry chuckled. “I meant Niall’s drink” he clarified.

“Oh” Zayn laughed “Yeah, yeah. I mean, as long as it’s Jameson, what’s not to like”

Niall barked a laugh and wrapped an arm around Zayn’s shoulders, making the contents of his cup slosh dangerously. “You and I are gonna be good friends, mate” he declared in Zayn’s ear, almost deafening him for life. Which wouldn’t be good, because Zayn wanted to listen to Harry’s drawly voice some more before that.

Harry arched an eyebrow. “Niall, please don’t be too overwhelming. He’s a _Literature_ master’s. He probably already thinks we Artsy people are batshit”

Zayn frowned, holding back a giggle because Harry had just _no idea_ that he and Louis even had a _name_ for them. “How’d you know I’m in Literature?” he asked, because that he noticed.

Harry cleared his throat, his cheeks going a lovely pink. “Oh, um, Liam. Liam told us about Louis and you, his friend. That’s it, innit, Liam?”

Liam nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. Had to share intel with my roommates about the fit bloke I met in the showers” he replied, smiling at Louis.

Louis rolled his eyes, trying his best to hide his pleased grin, and failing. “I hope you haven’t told them I’m a freak and I was about to call a fucking cleaning squad” he said, and he made it look as a joke, but Zayn understood the real worry about that in his eyes.

“No!” Liam gaped “What? Absolutely not!”

Harry snorted. “He only talked repeatedly and in great detail about how blue your eyes were”

Liam went an aggressive purple, and Zayn snorted a laugh as well, trying to muffle it in his cup, but Harry noticed, and grinned at him. “He was waxing poetry about Liam’s biceps instead” Zayn mouthed to Harry, and Harry had a fit of giggles at that.

They dispersed a bit after that. Zayn found himself with Liam and Louis, talking to a group of music grungies who were giving a tedious report about all the harmonies Harry should have done differently, and he had to bite his tongue and busy himself with his drink not to snarl at them to just enjoy the music and stop criticising.

_Maybe I really wanna fuck that bloke, look at me, trying to be a knight and defend a grungy_ , he thought to himself.

Niall was manning one of the drinks table again, and Harry was engrossed in a conversation with a group of five or six people. Zayn found himself staring at him, his almond-smelling sweater still keeping him warm.

They made eye contact across the crowd, again. Harry looked like he was just passively participating in his conversation, and Zayn was honestly doing the same, and when their eyes met, Harry’s green ones smiled wickedly, and he raised a small toast in Zayn’s direction with his cup, drinking without interrupting their eye contact.

Zayn grinned, and did the same.

Loud music started pumping right about then. It was the kind of music you danced in grungy discos, Zayn thought, where the bass was the only thing that mattered, and immediately people converged to the centre of the yard, where the space was bigger, and started dancing.

That left Zayn and Harry to stare at each other some more, and drink their Irish Redhead while looking at each other in the eyes.

Louis said something to Zayn about him and Liam going to take a walk, and Zayn nodded with a grin, confiding in the fact Liam was gonna take care of Louis for a while.

And then Harry started to walk towards Zayn. There were other people, Zayn was conscious about it. And yet, it was like only Harry was there, his long legs moving to reach Zayn, and Zayn waiting, his drink gone and the cup abandoned on a table nearby.

“Hey” Harry said lowly when he got close enough.

Zayn suppressed a shiver. “Hey”

“Wanna… wanna dance?”

Zayn nodded, silently thanking God for Louis having gone away, because it meant he wasn’t there to witness Zayn about to _dance_ with a _grungy_ just ‘cause he was fit.

And then he shook his head, deciding to cut it with the prejudiced bullshit like Louis had said that morning, and let Harry grab his hand to guide him towards the centre of the dancing crowd, where the lights from the lamps were almost non-existent, and the bass was so loud it reverberated through Zayn’s ribcage.

The darkness helped Zayn feel less like a fool as he started to move with Harry. There were some weak strobe lights somewhere, because every once in a while a white flash illuminated Harry’s features for a moment, his curls, his eyes, his plush lower lip.

“I’m shit at dancing” he said, shouted into Harry’s ear so that he would hear him over the deafening music.

Harry shook his head and gripped Zayn’s hips as soon as Zayn got closer. “I highly doubt so” he replied, low and rough in Zayn’s own ear, and Zayn wanted to push him away not to get a boner and pull him closer to make him feel it at the same time.

It was gonna be the latter, probably, judging from the way Harry didn’t seem intentioned on letting go of Zayn’s hips. They were inching closer and closer, their chest and crotches touching, and Zayn decided to let go and wrap his arms around Harry’s middle.

Harry shivered, and then bucked his hips a little, so that their crotches rubbed together, and Zayn already had a semi, and he didn’t know if he wanted Harry to notice it or not.

“Are you cold?” he asked Harry instead “Sorry I stole your sweater”

Harry chuckled in Zayn’s ear, and then Zayn felt a cool hand slide under the sweater and his shirt underneath, with cold fingers running over his abs. “You can take it off later” Harry said with his lips brushing Zayn’s earlobe.

And Zayn really had a kink for that kind of voice, and Harry’s hand was cold and making him shiver, and Zayn had been sexually frustrated for almost a month. And Harry had looked sheepish and shy while he sung, but now he was grinding his hips against Zayn’s and whispering things close to filthy to his ears, and what was Zayn supposed to do?

He pulled Harry closer by his waist, knocking their chests together and chuckling when Harry exhaled a breath and a groan. They stopped dancing. “What about now instead of later?” Zayn asked, slowly, their noses touching.

Harry stayed very still for a moment, and then nodded, his nose brushing Zayn’s some more.

Then he kissed Zayn, or Zayn kissed him, Zayn would never understand. Their lips collided, with a slow nipping at first, and then more firmly and thoroughly, while Zayn kept Harry pressed to his chest by the arms he still had around his waist, and Harry kept one hand under his own sweater, his fingers not that cold anymore and hooked over Zayn’s jeans waistband, while the other hand cupped the right side of Zayn’s face.

The bass vibrated through Zayn’s ribcage and their lips, and yet Zayn couldn’t really hear it. He could only hear Harry’s small sighs, the wet sounds of their lips sucking at each other, and the low, growly rumbles Harry was producing in his throat. “Now?” Harry asked at last, before Zayn could be able to really shove his tongue in Harry’s mouth like he planned.

Zayn didn’t have to even think about it. He was almost completely hard, and Harry too. “Yeah” he breathed.

Harry nodded. “I need to tell my friends I’m going home. They, um, they worry about me”

Zayn nodded too, because it was fair, although he’d rather already be against any horizontal or vertical surface with Harry, fucking and listening to his groans. “Yeah, me too. Gotta tell Louis” he said.

They slipped away from the dance floor, not holding hands but with Harry walking first and Zayn behind him, hands on his hips and hard dick pressing against Harry’s lower back.

When they were out of the dark yard and in the lamp lights again, Zayn reluctantly let Harry go. “Meet me in that street behind the stage when you’re done speaking to Louis” Harry said pointing at the small street going from the Art building towards the gym “Black Range Rover. I’ll tell Niall and I’ll wait for you”

Zayn nodded, and then he didn’t manage to restrain himself, and crowded in Harry’s personal space again, their crotches rubbing again. “Don’t disappear, Harry Styles”

Harry chuckled, running a hand through the hair on the back of Zayn’s head. “I’m not mental, cheers” he replied, almost in a moan, and then detached himself from Zayn to reach Niall at the table.

Zayn noticed Niall gaping at them a little, but ignored him and looked for Louis and Liam.

It wasn’t hard to find them. They were sitting on the grass, their backs to the Art building rear façade, away from the noises, and they looked like they were just talking. Zayn hesitated a little, because Louis seemed to be smiling and still holding Liam’s hand, and he didn’t wanna disturb him just to tell him he was gonna hook up with the grungy.

Louis saw Zayn first, though, and he waved at him, followed by Liam, so Zayn sighed and joined them. “Uh, Lou?” he said “I’m, eh, I’m leaving. Taking a walk”

Louis frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes!” he said quickly, cursing himself “I’m not, like, taking a walk by myself. I’m gonna go with someone”

Louis arched an eyebrow. “Be safe” he just said “Text me. Liam, um, Liam’s sleeping over at ours tonight, if that’s not a problem”

Zayn mentally fist-pumped, and then sobered up. “Absolutely no problem” he grinned.

“Who are you ‘gonna take a walk’ with?” Louis inquired, his eyes narrowing.

Zayn could really say it, not in front of Liam, because what if Harry didn’t want his friends to know, yet or at all? It just wasn’t right. “Just a bloke I met” he replied vaguely, looking at Louis in the eyes “I’ll tell you more tomorrow. Be safe too” he added, winking and laughing at the way Liam had gone a lovely purple.

Louis grabbed Liam’s empty cup and threw it at Zayn, who ducked it. “Go get laid, you stupid person” Louis said at last.

Zayn gave them a salute and a grin. “Will do, babe” he declared “Bye!”

He ran for the street Harry had pointed, and he could see the black Range Rover parked at the end of it, in a quiet spot almost by the gym, which meant the end of campus.

As he ran, the alcohol and the grit of Harry’s voice in his head made Zayn weirdly think about the guy in the gym shower again. _I’m gonna do something about my boner, this time_ , Zayn thought with a smirk when he saw Harry stand next to his car and sheepishly wave at him, like the moment before hadn’t happened.

_You’re a fake shy person, Harry Styles. I’m gonna have fun with you, I’m sure._

“Sorry it took me a while” he told Harry when he reached him “Louis and Liam were hiding”

Harry chuckled. “Got an eyeful?”

Zayn laughed. “An eyeful of whispering and holding hands” he clarified.

Harry hummed. “Liam… takes things slow. I hope that won’t be a problem for your friend” he said, frowning a little.

Zayn smiled and got closer. “The slower the things, the better for Louis” he just said “They’ll figure their own thing out. Let’s not worry about our friends, now, yeah?”

Harry chuckled and nodded. “I have more… _pressing_ matters to worry about, now” he said, gesturing to himself, and Zayn followed his hand with his eyes, realizing Harry was talking about the quite evident bulge in his jeans.

Zayn got even closer, until he was right up in Harry’s personal space again. “Hm, that’s a problem, isn’t it?” he asked, slowly.

Harry didn’t reply. He just stared at Zayn, and Zayn was done for. He backed Harry up until his shoulders knocked against the side of his car, and then they kissed again, harder and more dirtily than before, Harry opening his mouth first so that Zayn could thrust his tongue inside it like he’d wanted to do merely ten minutes earlier.

Harry was taking harsh breaths in between their kisses, his whole body shaking against Zayn’s while he still had him trapped against the car. “Sorry I’m shaking” Harry said, his cheeks getting redder “It’s the adrenaline. I haven’t gotten it out of my system yet”

Zayn grinned. “You’re gonna shake more if I have my way with you” he promised, knowing it sounded ridiculously cocky, and not caring.

Harry nodded frantically, fumbling with the handle of the backseat door of the car behind his back, and a moment later the door was opening, and Harry was sliding inside the car pulling Zayn with him. Zayn briefly thought he hadn’t had car sex since high school, and then climbed over Harry, closing the door behind himself. “Someone’s gonna see us” he warned Harry while he attacked his lips again, and not really minding what he was saying.

Harry shook his head. “Tinted windows” he breathed, his hands running up Zayn’s back, under the clothes.

Zayn chuckled. “Convenient”

Harry nodded, bucking his hips underneath Zayn, and pulling a little at the hem of the sweater. “I need it back” he said, grinning “Like, right now”

Zayn grinned back, and he planned on driving Harry crazy if it meant that he’d keep rumbling his words like that, so he shook his head. “Nah, I think I’ll keep it on until I have you on a real bed” he decided “But in the meantime, you need a reward for that _Ultralight Beam_ cover, ‘cause I really, _really_ liked it”

Harry gaped. “Did you?” he asked, and all the sex and filth on his face seemed to disappear to leave place for just honest surprise.

Zayn chuckled, and made quick work of Harry’s jeans, opening them and pulling them down just enough to expose him. Harry hissed and cursed when the cold air of the car hit him, and Zayn stared down at him, his mouth watering at the sight of how hard and leaking he was.

Zayn didn’t give Harry any warning, and he just lowered his head, the position a bit uncomfortable in the crammed space of the backseat, but not enough to make him even think about not doing this.

He tugged at Harry’s dick a couple of times, and then wrapped his lips around it.

Harry groaned. It was deep and almost guttural, his back arching a little by reflex and pushing his dick further inside Zayn’s mouth. Zayn steadied Harry with a hand on his hip, and started sucking on it, swirling his tongue around the head and taking time to lick up and down the underside while Harry moaned and writhed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” Harry muttered, and Zayn looked up at him. He was reclining his head backwards, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and he was gripping the leather of the seat under his long fingers.

Zayn had rarely seen anyone this beautiful while receiving head. He kept sucking, feeling his back starting to ache uncomfortably because of the position, and he tried to straighten it a little, only ending up taking Harry even further inside his mouth.

He relaxed his throat, and took him in, completely. Harry’s eyes shot open on a grunt when his dick hit the back of Zayn’s throat, and Zayn smirked, looking at Harry in the eyes and stopping the bobbing of his head in a mute permission.

Harry gaped through his panting. “I can’t fucking believe this, I must be dreaming” he said, like he was talking to himself.

Zayn let him go with a wet sound, and grinned. “You’re not” he assured him “Now you can fuck my mouth”

Harry didn’t need to be told twice, apparently, because he just scrambled to get a fistful of Zayn’s hair—being considerate not to pull too much, Zayn noticed—and the next second he was feeding his cock back into Zayn’s mouth, bucking his hips and swearing as Zayn took it and gagged on it.

Zayn didn’t particularly like giving head, but that was a night of exceptions, apparently, because he was fucking loving giving it to Harry.

Harry made all these growly sounds, gritting out “Fuck” and “Shit” and “God” and “Fuck” as he roughly manhandled Zayn’s head onto his dick, and Zayn could feel himself painfully hard in his own jeans, but didn’t plan on doing anything about it before Harry came, because it was just perfect that way.

Harry’s still clothed legs were wrapped around Zayn’s shoulders, and soon enough Zayn felt them start to shake. “I’m gonna come, fuck, I’m gonna come” Harry groaned.

Zayn nodded, causing his mouth to slide more up and down Harry’s dick. Harry gasped and choked on air, pulling harder at Zayn’s hair, and coming down Zayn’s throat with a louder groan which Zayn would never, ever forget.

Because it was so low and filthy that Zayn didn’t even need to touch himself, and he also came, in his pants, like a teenager.

Zayn took care of licking Harry’s dick clean, pooling the come in his mouth for Harry to see before he swallowed it all, and Harry’s eyes rolled back in his head as he released one last shaky breath, and then rested his head on the seat, panting.

He let go of Zayn’s hair, and Zayn hissed in pain when Harry’s rings got stuck in some strands. “Fuck, sorry, sorry” Harry muttered, extricating the rings slowly and carefully not to rip chunks of hair off Zayn’s scalp, which Zayn appreciated.

When he was done, Zayn wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and grinned. “Now we can go. Your place okay? Louis is having Liam at ours, I don’t wanna disturb them”

Harry gaped, still panting and with his cheeks red. “You still wanna come with me?” he asked, incredulously.

Zayn crawled over him until their faces were touching. “If you think I’ll let you go with a blowjob, without fucking you properly, you’re sorely mistaken, babe, I promise you that”

Harry chuckled. It was more of a squeal, but Zayn wasn’t picky. “Okay” he said at last “I, um, I need to get to the wheel, though”

Zayn grinned, and removed himself from Harry.

Harry started the car and drove off, and Zayn couldn’t stop grinning.

When they got to Harry’s place, Zayn kept the promise.

+

When he got home for Christmas break and his sisters asked him what major events happened during the semester, Zayn of course didn’t tell them that the highlight of the semester for him had been fucking a bloke with an exceptionally raspy voice, a bloke he didn’t know and hadn’t seen ever since.

It wasn’t like there weren’t any occasions. Louis and Liam were still on their way to actually date, and Zayn had Harry’s number in his phone, but he didn’t ever text him. Neither did Harry text Zayn.

And maybe it was better like this. Zayn didn’t need _dating_. He’d found Harry on a night in which he needed to get laid, and Harry had been pliant and shuddering against him, and they’d both gotten an incredibly mind-blowing orgasm out of it, but that was it.

In the back of his mind, though, Zayn still had Harry’s voice panting and sighing and whispering filth to his ear. It didn’t go away, stuck in his brain like the voice of the bloke in the showers, because Zayn was really as weird as Louis claimed, and he had a voice kink.

So, during the holidays, Zayn found himself more than once with Harry’s empty chat open, thinking _How bad would it be if I booty called him? Maybe he’d say yes_.

Zayn never did, also because he was in Bradford, and he didn’t know where Harry was during the break, but he certainly wouldn’t come to deliver his booty like pizza at Zayn’s door.

So Zayn didn’t text him, and kept himself busy by wanking to the memory of his voice.

The night of New Year’s Eve, he called Louis to check up on him, because he knew Louis’s family had gone somewhere abroad on vacation, which Louis had refused to join because they wouldn’t come back in time for the start of the new semester, so Louis had stayed in their house by campus.

Zayn knew Liam had stayed as well, so he wasn’t worried about Louis being alone, but still.

“Oi oi!” Louis shouted upon answering Zayn’s call “How’s the fam?”

Zayn chuckled. “They’re great. How you holding up?”

“Peachy. Liam’s here. He’s cooking with gloves, can you believe this shit?” Louis giggled.

Zayn laughed. “You might just have to marry this one”

Louis laughed too. “Eh, we’ll see. For now I’ll thoroughly enjoy him being considerate of my _handicap_ and making up for it afterwards by showing him that I’m not that squeamish when it’s about fucking”

“Louis!” Zayn heard Liam squeal from a distance.

Zayn snorted. “He might be more squeamish than you. So all good?”

“Yeah. Niall and Harry are here as well, they didn’t go home for Christmas either” Louis replied, and Zayn’s stomach did something funny. He could also hear a knowing grin in Louis’s tone “Speaking of which. I’ve gathered some really interesting data about that grungy party we went to, when I met Liam”

Zayn’s insides flipped. He didn’t tell Louis who it was he’d fucked that night, because he didn’t want to make it weird with Liam and his friends, and also because there hadn’t been a… _sequel_ , to that, so it wasn’t like it mattered. What had Harry done, just casually admitted to Louis that he and Zayn fucked?

“Someone said he drove you home that night” Louis said chuckling “Which is a very gracious periphrasis, but I can read between the lines, join the dots, make two plus two and all that”

Zayn sighed. Well then, Harry hadn’t exactly _admitted_ to fucking Zayn. “Sorry I didn’t tell you, Lou” he said “I didn’t think it mattered much. I haven’t seen him ever since”

“Yeah” Louis hummed “I think he’d like to see you again. Just saying. I’m in the other room and I can see him glance longingly at me since I excused myself saying it was you on the phone”

Zayn couldn’t suppress a shiver, the thought of Harry staring at him through the phone doing _things_ to him. “Oh” he just said “Yeah, well. He could have texted” he added, trying to sound stubborn.

“You could have texted as well” Louis replied, not taking any of his shit “Oh look he’s here! Hey Hazza. Zayn wants to say hi. Bye Zed, I’ll talk to you tomorrow” he added quickly, and before Zayn could even reply, he heard a rustle and hushed whispers and a muffled squeal, and then nothing. Just breathing.

_Fuck. I’ll kill him_ , Zayn decided, and cleared his throat. “Um, hey?”

Harry on the other end of the phone gasped. “Oh. Hey. Sorry. Louis is a bit extra sometimes, I swear. I just came to tell him dessert was ready”

Zayn chuckled. “He’s a lot, yeah. How, um, how are you?”

“I’m good, I’m great. Working on my songs during the break. I gotta have four ready by the end of January for a test”

Zayn rolled his eyes. Fucking grungies. There he was, studying _actual_ books and writing essays, while their exams were _writing songs_. “Tough, I’m sure” he commented, trying not to sound too sarcastic.

Harry hummed. “Yeah, at times. I can assure you writing songs is not as easy as it might seem” he said defensively, like he’d still gotten Zayn’s tone.

Zayn grimaced. _Fuck fuck fuck_. “Sorry” he decided to say at last “That came out wrong. Everybody has their own thing, I guess” he amended “So what are you lads doing while I’m stuck with my family, where my mother forces me to eat every two hours and my sisters pester me about men I’ve been with?”

Harry’s breath caught, and Zayn thanked God he was on the couch and far enough from any wall, because he kinda wanted to smash his head in one. “We’re, um, we’re eating a lot” Harry replied “And Louis, Liam and Niall are pestering me about men I’ve been with, which I might have not told them about at the time, but I might have given myself away earlier without noticing”

Zayn, despite himself, chuckled at that. “’S all good. It was bound to come out, and it’s not like it was a secret. Why, um, why didn’t you tell them?”

“I dunno” Harry replied, his voice getting lower and lower “I didn’t know if you wouldn’t appreciate me talking about us having hooked up. It didn’t seem right”

Zayn heard sounds of steps, like Harry was walking, and then the clear sound of a door being closed. “I didn’t tell Lou either” he replied “For the same reasons. And because I didn’t think it meant much, to be honest. You didn’t text me”

“Neither did you” Harry answered quickly, and then sighed “Sorry. But it’s true. So _we_ didn’t text _each other_ , technically”

Zayn laughed. “Fair enough, babe” he admitted “What about we text each other, then?”

Harry cleared his throat. “Okay. If you want. I could text you”

“Please do” Zayn grinned “I’m cold over here and I remember you taking care of that quite well last time”

Harry laughed nervously. “Yeah. Made you sweat properly”

“I’m sure it was just the heating in your room”

“Yeah, sure” Harry retorted, drawing the ‘u’ and having the same effect as two weeks earlier on Zayn.

Zayn chuckled, shaking his head. “Watch your lovely voice, babe. I’m not alone in the house. Yet”

“What about my voice?” Harry asked, his tone going impossibly lower.

Zayn shrugged even if Harry couldn’t see him. “I have a thing for raspy voices. Louis says I’m weird”

Harry chuckled. “I like your voice as well” he replied graciously “They’re shouting at me to go back. I’m afraid I have to. But I’ll text you, yeah? If you want”

Zayn grinned. “I want. I’ll text you too”

“Good”

“Good”

“Bye, Zayn. Talk to you soon” Harry concluded, and ended the call.

Zayn didn’t have time to even think about what the fuck just happened, because right then Safaa stuck her head through the door on the living room. “Bro? Dessert’s ready, and it’s twenty to midnight” she said with her small, warm smile.

Zayn smiled right back. “I’m coming, meri jaan” he replied, pocketing his phone and following her back to the dining room.

Zayn loved his family very much, and he decided to postpone thinking about having just talked to Harry about texting each other, because he didn’t want to look like he was distracted while he was waiting with his family for the start of a new year.

_Does it mean texting to booty call each other? Or just_ normally _texting, as Louis would say?_ , he wondered, but he didn’t have an answer, and he wouldn’t find one by just mulling it around in his head over and over.

So he spent dessert talking to his baba, mama, and sisters, revelling in being back with them, and he banned all thoughts of Harry and his voice from his head.

That was, until midnight came, and Zayn hugged his sisters and parents tightly, whispering “I love you” and “Happy New Year” with the sounds of fireworks coming from outside. He was just done hugging Safaa to his chest, kissing her on top of her head and murmuring “I love you, meri jaan”, when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

He took it out, and saw a message from Harry. _Happy new year, Zayn. You’d be my selected new-year snog if you were here._

Zayn chuckled. _Well then, since I’m not there, who are you snogging? Happy new year, Harry._

_No one, I’m afraid. Liam and Louis are making out on the couch. Niall’s gone to a party. I can snog the dirty dishes, that’s about all the choice I have atm._

Zayn chuckled again. _If I was there, I’d trap you against the counter and show you a proper new year snog, Harry Styles_. He didn’t have to say _that_ , but he just couldn’t help it. Apparently, Harry did _things_ to him even from a distance.

_Then it’d turn into a new year blowjob for sure_ , Harry replied.

Zayn arched an eyebrow. _I believe I offered a snog, not head_

_I was talking about me giving you head. Right here in the middle of your kitchen. There’s a mat in front of the sink. I’d get carpet burns all over my knees, but I know it’d be worth it._

Zayn felt himself start to fill up already, and he shook his head, not quite believing that Harry, _shy_ and _sheepish_ Harry who couldn’t even look at him while he sang, was also the Harry he’d fucked two weeks earlier, who had grunted and growled about wanting it harder and faster, and who was now starting a dirty conversation about new year sex.

Zayn took a glance at his parents and sisters. They were all sitting on the couch and watching some new year’s concert in the telly, so they wouldn’t miss him if he disappeared for a while. He waved at Safaa with his phone to tell her he’d go call someone, and she grinned, nodding. He smiled at her, and ran up the stairs, getting into his old room and locking the door.

_How would you do it?_ , he texted Harry.

Harry didn’t reply for a minute, and then Zayn got an incoming call from him. He answered on the first ring. “Hey” he sighed.

Harry hummed. “I’d kneel and open your jeans and start from the base until I had my lips around the head”

_Fuck_ , Zayn thought, perfectly seeing himself get harder in his jeans. “Jesus” Zayn breathed “You’re making me hard already”

Harry chuckled, that slow rumble of his that went right to Zayn’s groin, until Zayn was forced to pop his jeans open to relieve some pressure. “I’ve been hard all night knowing I could have gotten you in my bed again if you were at your own place”

Zayn chuckled. “Technically, it would have been _you_ in _my_ bed” he corrected.

Harry hummed again. “Technically, I would have let you fuck my throat”

Zayn groaned, his dick jumping to full attention just with that. He took a breath through his nose, and slid a hand inside his boxers, taking himself into his hand. “What are you doing, Zayn?” Harry asked.

“I’ve… uh, I’ve just gotten a hand around myself” Zayn replied at last.

Harry hummed, again. “Me too” he said then “I’m in your bedroom, on your bed. I hope you don’t mind”

The mere thought of Harry being that filthy on _Zayn’s_ bed made him even harder. “I don’t mind” he assured Harry.

“Tell me how you’d fuck my throat” Harry spurred him on “My voice would get all fucked up from that, I never do it. I’d do it for you, though”

Zayn groaned, his phone almost falling out of his hand. He got a firmer grip around it and around his dick, tugging quicker and spreading the precome over his slit with his thumb. “Fuck” he hissed “Harry, Harry”

“Zayn” Harry replied, slowly and with his own pants in his voice “Do you wanna tell me how you’d fuck my mouth?”

Zayn nodded, frantically. “I’d… ah, I’d grab your hair with my hands. And I’d move your mouth on my dick up and down, until you took me in completely. You’d gag, I know you would”

“I would” Harry confirmed, his voice lower, always lower “I would gag _for_ it and _on_ it” he added.

Zayn’s eyes rolled back inside his head. “Fuck, you’re so fucking filthy, how did I not notice” he gasped, his legs shaking.

Harry chuckled. “I’m sure you did by the time I asked to ride you two weeks ago”

“You were so filthy even then” Zayn agreed, nodding “Moving your hips like I paid for it”

Harry laughed. It was a breathy sound, lovely nonetheless, but it sounded like he honestly thought what Zayn had said was funny. “Like I paid for it” Harry repeated “Yes. Did you like it, Zayn?”

“Yes” Zayn replied, feeling himself getting closer “I liked watching you ride me. You’re so tight, babe, you voice is so low, your hands are so big”

“Imagine my hand right where yours is” Harry said in a groan “Right there around your dick. Wanna know where my hand really is?”

Zayn just nodded, not able to form cohered sentences anymore.

“I’m pushing two fingers inside myself” Harry said at last “I’m using the lube you have in your drawer. I hope you don’t mind, again”

“Fuck, Harry, fuck, I’m gonna come” Zayn said, because he was really close, and the thought of Harry getting off on Zayn’s bed might just be too much in the end.

Harry took a ragged breath. “Wait for me, I’m not there yet”

“Yeah” Zayn conceded “Yeah, okay, babe. What do you need”

“You inside me” was Harry’s answer, a bit like a mewling, a bit like a rumble “I haven’t stopped thinking about it since it happened”

“Me neither. I want to fuck you again, babe” Zayn gasped, trying to fight his oncoming orgasm “Will you let me again?”

Harry whimpered. “Yeah. I’m gonna come, Zayn, I’m gonna come”

Zayn nodded. “Okay. Do it, come for me, babe. Let me hear it”

Harry didn’t reply. He just groaned and panted into the receiver, and at last, he emitted a longer, lower grunt, and Zayn came hard in his own hand while Harry did the same on the other end of the line.

They didn’t speak right away after that. Zayn took his time to regain his breath and clean himself off with something he took from the laundry bin in a corner of the room, his legs unsteady, and he never took his phone away from his ear, listening to every single pant coming from Harry while he also recovered his breath.

It was Harry who spoke first, at last. “That was… something”

Zayn chuckled. “Yeah”

“When are you coming back?” Harry asked.

Zayn grinned a little to himself. “In four days”

Harry hummed. “Okay. Good” he said “Zayn?”

“Yeah, Harry?”

“I really want you to fuck my mouth when you come back” he said innocently “Let you hear how fucked up my voice gets afterwards”

Zayn’s dick made a valiant effort to jump to attention again, twitching in his boxers. “Okay, babe” he said “Shy and sheepish my arse” he then added in a mutter.

Harry laughed. “Appearances can be deceiving”

_Don’t I know it_ , Zayn thought after he realized he just got off the phone with a grungy. Then he shook his head, because seriously, there were more important things than stupid prejudices against other departments in your uni, right? Like getting off with fit blokes with deep voices. “Yeah” he agreed “Happy New Year, Harry” he added with a smile.

Harry huffed a laugh. “Happy New Year, Zayn”

+

Zayn got back to his and Louis’s place on the fourth of January, and he already had a deadline for the next week, courtesy, of course, of his English Literature professor, who apparently wasn’t too engrossed in his own Christmas break that he would forget to assign them another surprise essay.

“I hate him” Zayn declared upon opening the door.

Louis was there with a grin, and he hugged Zayn without hesitation. “I know you’re talking about Professor Holmes” he said “But I’m happy you’re back. I missed you”

Zayn pulled back to look at Louis in the eyes, feeling his heart flutter a little. “You look… more at ease?” he tried, carefully.

Louis grinned. “Liam and I are officially dating, as of two hours and seventeen minutes ago” he announced.

Zayn smiled, and hugged Louis again. “I’m happy for ya, mate” he said, as sincerely as he knew how “Liam’s a good one. But tell him that I don’t care about his biceps, and if he doesn’t treat you right, I’ll punch him in the face”

Louis arched an eyebrow as he closed the door and helped Zayn drag his suitcase through the corridor. “Well, Zayn, me finding regular dick also brought _you_ good dick, so you shouldn’t complain”

Zayn frowned. What did Louis even know about the turn Zayn and Harry’s _relationship_ had taken? Zayn hadn’t told him anything yet.

Louis scoffed and waved his hand. “I know you had phone sex with Harry on New Year’s. I saw him on the phone with you and then he went to your room and when they went away I went in to check everything was in order and the bed wasn’t made as you make it. I doubt Harry took a nap on the phone with you”

Zayn snorted a laugh. “We’re, like” he tried, failing.

“Planning on regularly hooking up” Louis finished for him “I know, he looked like a happy baby giraffe when he came downstairs again. Took down a chair, the dresser, broke two of my admittedly least expensive action figures by the fireplace, and failed to notice there was jizz on the hem of his shirt” he listed on his fingers while Zayn did his best not to laugh “Your dick must be magical or something, for it to cause such destruction from such a distance”

Zayn laughed openly, and grabbed Louis to get him into a hug one more time. “I missed you”

“Yeah, I know” Louis grinned “I baked you a tart to contain your fury for the upcoming deadline because your professor always only gives you a week to write essays and I hate him” he told Zayn “But I see that you look peachy and well-fucked, and you haven’t even actually fucked the lad again yet”

Zayn rolled his eyes and sighed. “I look peachy now, but I’m gonna need a fuckton of your cakes if I wanna survive this deadline”

While he ate Louis’s tart, Zayn thought that he really wanted to see Harry, but that paper was gonna be so fucking complicated to write, because it was about Joyce’s _Ulysses_ , and it was so much out of Zayn’s actual field of interest, since Zayn was specializing in late 1900 literature. So he knew that if he didn’t start working right away on it, it would bite him in the arse.

He sighed and thumbed his lock-screen open, going to Harry’s chat right away. _M home babe, but I have a deadline next week, so I don’t think I’ll be able to go out before that._

He felt a bit frustrated already, because Harry wasn’t his boyfriend, but his _soon-to-be regular hook-up_ , as Louis had put it. A fuck buddy. So Zayn shouldn’t feel like telling him where he was and why he couldn’t make it, and yet here he was, making sure Harry knew he was alive and well and still wanted to see him if only he had time.

Harry replied a minute later. _Oh, bummer. Okay, don’t worry about that. I need to work on my songs a little too, so I’ll do that. While I wait for you to finish your paper so you can fuck me boneless afterwards._

Zayn’s dick gave a traitorous jump at that, and Zayn rolled his eyes, a bit annoyed about Harry’s deadlines being _songs_ , a bit turned on about Harry still wanting to hook up, and a bit frustrated that he couldn’t hear Harry’s voice again as soon as he planned. _Yeah, babe. Work on your songs with that pretty rumbly voice o’ yours and give everybody a boner_ , he replied with a grin.

Harry sent him a voice message where he just chuckled and said “I will, but don’t be so hyperbolic, Zayn”, and Zayn had to turn off his phone not to get completely aroused just from that. Or smash said phone against the wall because Harry was of course one of those people who used _hyperbolic_ to mean an adjective for people and not a narrative tool.

_Fucking grungy_ , was Zayn’s last thought before finally managing to concentrate on starting his paper.

+

Zayn was good, he was fine.

No, that was a lie, the deadline for the paper was that very day at midnight and it was already eight, and he still hadn’t finished incorporating his quotes into the paper.

Louis was leaving him alone because he knew Zayn was about to have a mental breakdown, and Zayn hadn’t spoken a single word out loud since he’d woken up that morning, and he was very close to smashing his head against the computer.

He stood up to just go wash his face really quick, and he didn’t know why, but he brought his phone with him and texted Harry after he scrubbed his face with the towel, hard, hoping to wake himself up more that way. _This paper is fucking killing me, but the deadline is tonight, so I’m gonna be free after that. Do you still wanna hang out?_

Zayn hadn’t talked to Harry in that week, neither in person nor via text, cursing Professor Holmes for depriving him of sleep _and_ sex. But he and Harry weren’t exactly _going out_ , so there was no need for Zayn to text him just because. And yet, he found himself thinking about Harry almost constantly, and he wanted to see him again.

Harry replied just seconds later. _Yeah. Sorry it’s been rough. I finish my shift at work at eleven if you want?_

Zayn nodded and replied in the affirmative, and he found that the mere thought of seeing Harry that night gave him a little extra strength to finish the fucking Joyce paper.

He went back to his room and looked up the next bibliographic reference for the next quote.

His stomach flipped when the internet page took ages to load, until it became white and gave him the message _Check your internet connection_.

“No, come on” Zayn sighed, refreshing the page, only for the same message to appear.

He didn’t have time to do much else before Louis tentatively knocked on his open door. “Zed?” he said slowly “You, um, you won’t like this, but our internet’s down”

“Fuck” Zayn hissed “I need to finish the fucking quotes. Do you think the computer lab on campus will have working internet?”

“It’s eight, Zed, computer labs are closed” Louis sighed “But the café where Liam works, it’s a 24h one and they have Wi-Fi. You can go there? It’s just a couple blocks away from here, it’s called _The Coffee Bean_ , I think we went there once or twice last semester?”

Zayn nodded frantically, stuffing his books and laptop in his bag and quickly hugging Louis before flying out the door and pulling out his phone with Maps to reach the place, because fuck if he remembered where it was.

Zayn almost had a heart attack when he got to the café, because it looked like no one was inside, and what if it was closed? Zayn was _fucked_. Then, he saw someone move behind the counter, and he willed himself to calm down, entering the place.

It was deserted, but the big sign with the Wi-Fi name and password hung behind the counter gave Zayn some more will to live. “Hello” he said to no one, because he couldn’t see any staff member.

He shrugged and sat down at a table next to a power outlet, opening his laptop and quickly connecting to the Wi-Fi. It worked, thank God.

“Hello, sorry I was out back, what can I get…” the staff person showed up in a rush, and then they stopped speaking.

Zayn raised his head, and found Harry gaping a little at him. He was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt with the logo of the café, a small, plain white apron around his waist from whose pocket a notepad peeked out, and he had his hair in a bun. He looked fucking climbable.

_No Zayn stop you gotta finish the fucking paper_. “Hey, Harry” he smiled “Didn’t know you worked here”

Harry smiled too. “Well, we haven’t spoken much about ourselves since we met” he chuckled “You all good?”

Zayn nodded. “Yeah, just, internet’s down at my place and my deadline is in three hours. Louis told me the place Liam worked at was a 24h café with internet, so I came”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, Liam doesn’t work on Mondays. I do though. Just tell me what you would like and I’ll leave you to your paper then”

_I’d very much like to fuck you in that apron_ , Zayn thought, but didn’t say. “Whatever can give me enough strength to survive the next three hours, babe” he said instead “I trust you”

Harry blushed a little, and nodded. “Okay then. Extra sugary and extra coffee” he declared, and went behind the counter.

Zayn kept working on the paper, and it took all his willpower not to get distracted and send Harry glances, but he managed.

In the end, around ten to eleven, with the café still completely deserted except for him and Harry, Zayn re-read the paper from start to finish, and finally turned it in, sighing and then closing his laptop, brushing his eyes with the tips of his fingers.

When he removed his hands from his face, Harry was standing right next to him, smiling. “Done?” he asked Zayn.

Zayn smiled, and blinked. “Done”

“Good” Harry whispered, bending over to be at eye-level with Zayn, who was still sitting “Because I’ve waited here without disturbing you like a good boy for three hours, but if you don’t fuck me in the next ten minutes, Zayn, I will probably die of self-combustion”

Zayn’s whole body shivered, and his eyes dropped to Harry’s pink lips. “We’re at your work place” he pointed out.

Harry smirked. “We’re closed. Break” he retorted, and Zayn glanced at the door, seeing the sign clearly reading _Closed_ from the outside.

“I see” Zayn said.

Harry chuckled. “Do you wanna see the back room?”

+

They were done and dressed again by the time Harry’s co-worker showed up to start her shift. Well, not that they even got undressed that much. Zayn had just bent Harry over the small desk in the staff’s break room, and they’d fucked with their clothes still on, quick and fast, like they couldn’t even lose the handful of seconds it would have taken for them to shrug off their clothes.

Harry said bye to his colleague, Jane or Jen, and then they were out, making out in the dirty, dead-ended alley on the back of the café, Harry shoved against the wall and Zayn running his tongue up and down his pulse-point.

“Bed” Harry panted “Bed, we need a bed, right now”

Zayn nodded, but he didn’t do anything, too busy sucking a mark right under Harry’s ear.

Harry didn’t seem to mind, from the way his hands were roaming on Zayn’s back, his hips, his arse. Refractory period was clearly non-existent with Harry, because Zayn felt himself fatten up in his jeans again, already, and _yes we need a bed now_.

“My place” Zayn growled at last “Louis’s sleeping at yours with Liam”

Harry nodded, his mouth latched to Zayn’s for one more moment. “Yeah, okay, okay” he agreed at last.

+

“How are your, um, your songs coming along?” Zayn asked well into the night, after the maybe fifth time they had sex in a row. It just seemed polite, to ask, because Harry had asked him about the paper. So Zayn asked him about the songs, trying not to sound condescending. It was just… it was just _songs_ , wasn’t it.

Harry sighed and turned on his side, to look at Zayn. The duvet was covering him from the waist down, and Zayn had a clear sight of his tattoos and his chest and his smooth abs. “They’re coming along” Harry said after a moment “Why do you always sound like you’re saying the word _songs_ in between inverted commas?”

Zayn frowned. “What?”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno. It sounds like, like you don’t really think it’s hard to write a song”

“I never said that” Zayn replied, feeling a bit guilty and a bit annoyed. And he’d even tried to be polite and ask about Harry’s work.

Harry stared at Zayn for another moment, and then chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry, sorry. Maybe it’s just me. I don’t think I’m doing a good job with my songs so far. And the deadline’s in three weeks. So”

Zayn didn’t reply, but he quickly thought about something to say to either change the subject or make sure Harry wasn’t mad. Mad Harry meant no sex for Zayn, after all.

He grinned at Harry. “You can sing ‘em to me while I fuck you” he said “See if you get a bit more inspired”

Harry grinned right back, and slowly crawled over the duvet until he was straddling Zayn, his curls cascading over Zayn’s face when Harry lowered his own so that his lips hovered over Zayn’s. “You wish I’d sing you songs, don’t you” he whispered “Maybe if you’re really good and make me come really hard, I will”

“I can try my best” Zayn declared, his hands running up and down Harry’s naked thighs while Harry pulled the duvet back and away from them, arching an eyebrow when he saw that Zayn was fully hard, _again_. Zayn smiled angelically.

Harry chuckled and rolled his eyes, but then he just rolled his hips as well, grinding their hard-ons together in a way that made Zayn exhale a groan. Harry chuckled again, and then grabbed the lube and another condom, swiftly rolling it on Zayn’s cock and then lathering it in lube.

Zayn watched him line himself up with Zayn’s dick, and he briefly grabbed him by the hips to stop him. “You need a bit of prep first, babe” Zayn said, frowning.

Harry, his face red and his hair a mess, smiled and shook his head. “I’m still open from earlier” he declared like it was nothing “I just want to ride you, Zayn. Can I?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. It’s fine, don’t worry about me” Harry replied, his fingers ghosting over Zayn’s lips, neck, and chest “You’re sweet, though”

Zayn arched his eyebrow. “I’m not. I just don’t want you to hurt yourself. This, like, this hooking up thing. It needs to be good for both of us”

Harry didn’t reply, and for a moment, Zayn thought he’d seen something like disappointment or hurt flash across his face. But maybe it was only the scarce lighting, because a second later Harry was throwing his head back and sinking on Zayn’s dick, with a low groan and harsh breaths. “So good” Harry murmured “So fucking good, it’s like I was made to take your dick”

Zayn only grew harder at those gravelly words, and nodded, wrapping his hands around Harry’s hips. “Yeah” he panted “Sometimes when I sleep I dream of how you ride it”

Harry opened his eyes and straightened his head to look at Zayn. There was something in his eyes, a flicker that Zayn had learned to recognize as the moment Harry had a good idea for one of his songs. It was different from the other sparkles in his eyes, Zayn couldn’t explain it and he couldn’t understand it, but he _recognized_ it. So he grinned. “Might do for a good song, babe?” he asked.

Harry rolled his hips and clenched around Zayn, cutting his breath clean off. “ _I’m coming down, I figured out I kinda like it_ ” Harry sung, or better, whispered, almost to himself “ _And when I sleep I’m gonna dream of how you ride it_ ”

In that moment, Zayn thought he’d never seen _this_ Harry. The Harry riding dick and singing like he was born to do both, at the same time, and on Zayn. It wasn’t ‘grungy’, it wasn’t stupid, it didn’t look like something Zayn could ever want to make fun of. It was just hot, and Zayn realized right then that he didn’t want Harry to stop.

“Keep singing” he asked, demanded.

Harry closed his eyes again, with his head thrown back and the pale line of his long neck exposed. “ _If you go out tonight_ ” he sang, then stopped, started riding Zayn harder, and groaned “ _I’m going out ‘cause I know you’re persuasive_ ” Harry planted his hands on Zayn’s stomach, leaning forward and using him as leverage to bounce on his dick for real “ _You get me dizzy,_ ah, _you get me dizzy_ , ah, fuck, Zayn, fuck”

Zayn felt like he was gaping as he stared at Harry fuck him and keep singing his song. “Are the ‘ah’s part of the song?” he asked, to break the moment, because it was too intense and he didn’t want to come yet.

Harry looked at him in the eyes. “They can be if you want ‘em to”

Zayn nodded. “Yeah, babe. Sing your songs and moan in the mic like you moan when you ride my cock”

Harry nodded. “ _You get me dizzy, ah, you get me dizzy, ah_ ” he sung, low, his voice scratching something in Zayn’s chest like gravel.

Zayn groaned after a particularly deep thrust of Harry’s, and Harry’s eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t stop fucking himself on Zayn. He only did it harder, his hips rolling in eight figures while he tried to reach his own spot. Zayn, who had learned where it was probably that very first night, just sat up and wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist, pulling him down on his cock, hard, and at the right angle.

Harry shouted, his head flinging itself backwards again. “Keep singing” Zayn ordered.

“ _I had a few, got drunk on you, and now I’m wasted_ ” Harry sung, his voice breaking and reduced to a small groan by the end of the sentence.

It was such a small thing, not even one of Harry’s best gritted sounds, and yet, it made Zayn come on the spot, without any warning, like the orgasm was hiding there and only needed a little signal to come out and release itself.

Zayn couldn’t control his voice or body in that moment, so he grunted louder than usual against Harry’s neck, and his body shook, hard, convulsively, while his eyesight went white for a couple moments as he spilled inside the condom, and inside Harry.

Harry groaned, and came with him, making a mess of their stomachs, and also shuddering bodily on top of Zayn.

They didn’t speak for a while after that, and stayed in that position, not caring if Zayn was still inside Harry and going soft.

Harry, at last, chuckled and combed Zayn’s sweat-matted hair away from his forehead. “If I knew” he said slowly “I would have sung you my songs before. I’ll tell you when the other ones are ready, so we can have more full-body orgasms”

Zayn didn’t answer, because he still didn’t know what the fuck had exactly happened, so he just kissed Harry to shut him up and think.

He absurdly remembered the guy in the showers, and how a particularly rough voice had made him get completely hard without Zayn even being able to see the person.

It was just a kink, and that was all. It wasn’t _Harry_ per se, Zayn thought. It was just a good voice, like the guy in the showers. That was all.

+

Zayn spent the next weeks going to class, writing essays, fucking Harry, and thinking about his voice kink. Sometimes, it caught him off guard.

He could just be in class, and the professor would just say the word “So”, and Zayn would be reminded of how Harry could drawl his ‘o’s, and he’d pop a boner right in the middle of a lecture.

Luckily, he now knew where to find Harry on campus when he also had class—in the grungy building, or on the yard in front of it if the weather was nice—and Harry could read Zayn’s face better than Zayn himself, apparently, because it always only took him a glance to understand Zayn was in a mood. Harry would then pull him into an empty bathroom, classroom, lab, and let Zayn have his wicked way with him whenever he needed. Or whenever they _both_ needed, because Zayn wasn’t the only one who couldn’t keep his hands and dick to himself, he was proud to notice.

Harry knew the full power that his voice held on Zayn, and he used it, frequently and when Zayn less expected it. He could just run into him and Louis and hug Zayn, and then whisper “I’ve been thinking about letting you fuck my mouth again the whole day”, making sure that his voice was extremely growly, and Zayn would be done for, excusing them both as he dragged Harry away somewhere more private to make him deliver. Harry always looked smug when Zayn lost his control that way, he looked smug even with a mouthful of dick, and Zayn only lost his mind more.

And so those three weeks passed, between a quick fuck in an empty classroom, a blowjob in a car, or a slower, longer fuck at either Zayn’s or Harry’s place.

Zayn noticed that he and Harry rarely slept apart those days, and the thought worried him a little, because he knew that one of the universal fuck buddies rules was that you don’t spend the night together. But Harry was pliant and warm against Zayn, and he smiled in that sheepish way that Zayn now knew hid a lot of trouble, and then Harry kissed him and said “Goodnight, Zayn” in that gravelly voice of his, and Zayn didn’t want Harry to go.

Was it wrong? Maybe. Did Zayn care? Not that much.

That was why Zayn was on the very Arts building yard he mildly loathed, and he wasn’t feeling quite like he was _betraying his principles_. Because they were dickhead prejudices, as Louis had started saying after he started dating Liam and being friends with Harry and Niall. And also, if Zayn was still fucking Harry, then Harry mustn’t be too bad of a grungy, right? There was no bomb dick that could make Zayn rethink all of his positions on the subject, but at least Harry and Niall weren’t the bad kind of grungies.

Zayn promised to himself to even stop using the term, and maybe he was morally growing up or something, or maybe it was just the content feeling of sitting on the grass under the sun, with Harry’s head resting in his lap while he hummed some melody to himself and scribbled in his notebook, and Zayn mindlessly played with his curls while he read.

Louis, Liam and Niall were also there, each of them busy with their own work, and Zayn looked at all of them, a bit surprised that it was just so _easy_ , to do so many different things and still be able to share a space, time, and feelings.

Because that was what was going on, wasn’t it? Feelings. He could see them on Louis and Liam’s faces as they raised their eyes from their books every once in a while to just smile at each other. He could see them on Niall’s face, when he stared at his friends and sighed contently. And he could see them on Harry’s face, whenever he lifted his head a little bit, scrunching his nose and eyes against the sun, to just smile at Zayn or make a silly face at him.

Zayn knew that if he had a mirror, he could have seen _something_ on his own face as well. He didn’t know how to name it, maybe didn’t even _want_ to name it, but it was there, because you don’t sleep with your fuck buddy, and you don’t study outside on a sunny day with them, and yet there they were, and Harry looked climbable and edible as always, but Zayn wasn’t thinking about sex, in that moment.

He was thinking about finally asking Harry, seriously and for real, to sing him his songs. Because maybe Louis was right, and he’d been a prejudiced dickhead, which Harry had maybe noticed and not commented on, and he wanted to show Harry that at least a little, Zayn cared about his work, and he didn’t think it was _that_ stupid.

“How’s it going?” Zayn asked him, quietly.

Harry raised his head and looked at Zayn, his nose a bit red, maybe a little burnt from the sun. “I need one more song. I already have it though. I just need to, like, make it better” he replied, a bit sheepishly and self-consciously.

Zayn smiled, feeling incredibly fond of that lanky frame nestled in between his legs, of that lad who could ride dick and sing without batting an eyelash, but could also doubt his own talent when explicitly asked about his work. “Sing it to me?” Zayn tried, not understanding why his heart was thumping unevenly. It was just a fucking _song_ , wasn’t it. He kept playing with Harry’s curls.

Harry gaped a little, and his cheeks were red, but maybe it wasn’t because of the sun. “Okay” he said at last “It goes _She work_ …”

“Watch your fucking step, you freak!” a shout and more noises interrupted Harry.

Zayn raised his head, and his stomach lurched. Louis was standing by the table on the yard where people were distributing free coffee and lemonade, and he was looking at the ground, where his glass, the one he always brought with him from home, was laying. Zayn could see the guy confronting Louis, a music grungy for sure judging by the long hair and the guitar, and he had an evident stain of coffee on his skinny jeans. He looked livid.

“I’m sorry” Louis said, scratching the back of his head.

“These jeans were new” the grungy replied in a snarl.

Louis sighed. “Yeah, I said sorry. The glass slipped from my hand”

The grungy laughed, and kicked Louis’s glass on the floor a little. “Maybe if you drank from normal cups like every other human being, it wouldn’t have happened”

Zayn was up and running to them in less than a second, hearing Harry squeal when he removed himself from under his head, and honestly not even turning to say sorry to him. Harry understood Louis just like Zayn did, and he probably knew why Zayn was so upset.

“Freak” the grungy told Louis just as Zayn joined them.

Zayn felt an ugly shiver run up his spine, coming from all the years he and Louis had spent on campus during their bachelors, with all the grungies laughing at Louis, calling him _freak_ , _weird_ , _odd_ , _stupid_ , and even _autistic and OCD_ , like _that_ was an insult.

“Back off” Zayn said, growling.

The grungy turned to look at Zayn as well. “Excuse me?”

“I said back off!” Zayn shouted “Don’t talk to him like that. None of your pretentious fucking bullshit today, mate. He said sorry. That’s more than enough”

The grungy sighed. “I don’t think it is, _mate_ ” he answered “These jeans cost me a fuckton of money, and _you freaks_ shouldn’t even be here, this is the Arts yard”

Zayn took a deep breath, and gently grabbed Louis by an arm, to pull him away. Liam did the same, a bit at a loss. “Yeah” Zayn said “I don’t even fucking know why we came here, to be honest. I can’t fucking stand you and your fucking pretentiousness and all your fucking blabbering about music and harmonies and fucking songs for exams” he spat, feeling anger boil in the pit of his stomach.

“Zayn” Louis whispered, but Zayn shook his head.

He wasn’t finished. “I really can’t stand you all, you know that? We even have a fucking _name_ for you guys, we call you _grungies_. Pretentious, stupid, filthy motherfuckers”

The grungy laughed. “That’s a bit rich coming from you, right? Your fucking _friends_ are the _grungies_ you said you hate so much” he said, gesturing behind him “Everybody here in the department knows you and Harry Styles are fucking. We figured it out the moment he stopped fucking everybody else”

Zayn balled his fists. “Leave him out of this”

“How can I? He’s right behind you” the grungy replied, pointing behind Zayn again “Do you call him _pretentious_ and _grungy_ and _stupid_ when you fuck as well? Does he like it?”

Zayn was ready to have a good, old fistfight at the last sentence, but he never moved, because right then, he heard Harry’s voice, low, gravelly and _angry_. “Get lost, Grimshaw” Harry said “You’re just jealous ‘cause I never called you back. Louis is my friend, and I won’t have you insult him. So, go” he added, coldly.

The guy called Grimshaw briefly stared at Harry and Zayn, and then shrugged, getting lost.

Zayn looked at Louis, and frowned when Louis just sighed and shook his head at him. Then Zayn turned to look at Harry, and the _anger_ he saw in his eyes would never fully leave his mind after that.

Harry shook his head a bit, too, and then took a step backwards when Zayn took one towards him. “Pretentious” he said, raising one finger “Stupid” he raised another “Filthy” another finger “Music, harmonies and _songs_ for exams” he then said, listing more things on his fingers and then crooking them into invisible inverted commas.

Zayn felt the ground falter a little under his feet. “Harry, I…”

“I knew” Harry laughed, bitterly “I knew you had a superiority complex over us _grungies_ ” he said, repeating the word like he was spitting it, and Zayn thought it sounded really fucking horrible when said that way, even if it wasn’t technically a swear word “You were always looking so fucking annoyed whenever I told you about my exams, my songs, like you couldn’t believe it was a _real_ thing for me”

Zayn shook his head. “No, Harry, I didn’t mean you, I…”

“You didn’t mean me, but I’m one of _them_ just the same” Harry said coldly “My exams are their exams, my struggles are their struggles, and I didn’t ask you to understand it. I didn’t ask you to be an arsehole about it, either, but that you were anyway”

“That guy was calling Louis a freak!” Zayn shouted.

Harry nodded. “Yes, because _he_ is a fucking arsehole, and it’s because it’s _him_ , not because of what he studies here. Same as you. Same as me. And I stood up to come back you up and tell him he shouldn’t talk to Louis that way, but then I just listened to what you said, and I didn’t think you had such… animosity, towards a fucking master’s programme. It’s frankly a bit shocking, Zayn”

Harry was speaking in a low, cold tone, and Zayn had never thought the day would come in which he wouldn’t like to listen to Harry speak. But now he didn’t want to, because he could see the disappointment and hurt in Harry’s tone, and Zayn had just fucked up big time, hadn’t he? He liked Harry, maybe more than a little, and he’d insulted _him_ as well while he spat his filth onto that Grimshaw guy.

“Harry, I’m sorry” Zayn said, defeated. _Please let it be enough_.

Harry shook his head. “It’s not enough, Zayn. The fucking was great, but I think we gotta put a stop to that. Wouldn’t want _pretentious_ and _stupid_ me to ruin your perfect degree by just breathing your same air or summat”

And with that, Harry turned on his heels and walked away. After an apologetic glance, Niall and Liam followed him, Liam taking care of kissing Louis before doing so, and whispering to him “I gotta take care of him, I’ll call you later”.

Zayn didn’t move. He didn’t know what to do, and he shouldn’t have felt as desperate as he did right then, watching Harry’s broad shoulders get further and further away.

“You’re a dickhead, Zayn” Louis declared with a sigh “ _You’re_ the pretentious dickhead, and I loved you too much to tell you that this was gonna happen sooner or later”

Zayn didn’t reply, but when Louis gently grabbed him by an arm and hugged him, he cried a little in Louis’s neck, saying sorry for dirtying the collar of his shirt. Louis shook his head, and just shushed him.

+

“You’re pining” Louis told Zayn that day.

Zayn was sitting at the breakfast bar and eating cereal while he still fucking tried and failed to search for the song about a baby, an actress and a cactus.

“I’m not” Zayn replied, and it sounded grumpy and broody to his own ears.

“You are” Niall supported Louis’s claim from where he was engrossed in a FIFA game with Liam.

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Why are you even here in my house?” he snarled.

“Because you broke Harry’s heart and now we’re not allowed to have fun in our place anymore” Niall replied nonchalantly “Also, he’s got that thing tonight. So he needs the quiet. To get ready”

Zayn pretended his attention didn’t perk up at that. What _thing_? Was Harry seeing someone? Niall had said he needed to get ready. Maybe he had a date. Maybe it was that fucking Grimshaw guy. After all, it had been pretty clear from the day Harry and Zayn fought, a week earlier, that Harry had been quite… promiscuous, before Zayn. Maybe even _during_ Zayn.

_Fucking stop it, Zayn. You’re doing that thing again, where you take things for granted and convince yourself you have everything figured out. But you don’t, and you lost Harry because of it. Without managing to fucking tell him what you realized you feel for him. And now he’ll never want to hear it._

“You’re pining _so_ much” Louis nodded to himself, and threw one of his highlighters to Zayn for good measure.

“I’m _not_ ” Zayn growled.

“You are” Niall confirmed, again “Ain’t you gonna ask what I meant, with the Harry-getting-ready thing?”

Zayn did his best to roll his eyes and not start crying. “No, Niall. If Harry’s going out with someone and needs quiet and time to get ready and do his mindfulness and his yoga and drink a kale smoothie, I don’t wanna hear it” he said, hoping it sounded snarky and careless instead of piny and fake.

Liam chuckled. “You’re so _bad_ at pretending you’re not pining for him” he said, and Zayn gave him a betrayed stare “But no. Harry isn’t going out with anyone, probably never will at this rate. You fucked him up real good”

“He fucked me up, more like” Zayn muttered.

“We meant the concert” Liam said, more gently and gracefully ignoring Zayn’s last comment.

Zayn frowned. “What concert? Another fucking grungy party?”

“Artsy” Louis corrected him with an arched eyebrow. Zayn sighed and sent an apologetic glance to Niall, who just shrugged and laughed.

“Anyway. No” Liam kept going “It’s not an artsy party. It’s… fucking hell, Zayn, there’s flyers everywhere, how did you _not_ see them?”

“’Cause he’s been at home pining for a week” Louis replied mercilessly.

Zayn grunted. “Are you gonna fucking tell me what’s going on, or not?”

“Harry did very well on his exam about _songs_ ” Niall said, more seriously “He did so well that his professor fell in love with the songs Harry wrote, and booked him a show in the Arts and Performances building’s theatre. Tonight”

Zayn’s stomach flipped, and a smile made its way on his face despite himself. Harry had been so worried for that composition exam, but he’d done good, he’d done great, he was about to sing his songs for the first time ever…

“He must be dying with nerves” Zayn murmured to himself. Harry never sung his own songs in front of anyone.

“Yep” Niall sighed “That’s why we left him alone to relax. He’s a nervous wreck. But, the point is that he’s gonna do a proper show, with his own songs, tonight, and we think you should come and listen to him”

Zayn shook his head. “Does _he_ think I should come?”

Niall shrugged. “We can’t know. He throws a strop whenever we say your name, ‘s like you became fucking Voldemort” he said carelessly “But you should come anyway, and say sorry to him, and fix it, ‘cause you’re both pining, and it’s very tiring to watch”

Zayn opened his mouth to snarl that he didn’t have anything to say sorry for, but it wasn’t the truth, wasn’t it? He had plenty to apologise for, because he’d been presumptuous, he’d been a dickhead, he’d undermined Harry’s whole life and work, and he had a superiority complex just ‘cause he thought books were more difficult than songs. He wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

He stared down at his phone, looking at the unfruitful search for _when she’s alone she goes home to a cactus_ , and he thought about the guy in the showers, with that wonderful, raspy singing voice. He felt about as out of reach as Harry felt in that moment, but while Zayn didn’t know—and didn’t care anymore, at that point—the showers bloke, he knew Harry.

And he knew he wanted to get him back.

“What time?” he asked.

Louis smiled, and threw him another highlighter. “Eight. Wear your grungy clothes so Harry will be more tempted to give it to you again”

Zayn caught the highlighter and threw it right back at Louis. “That word is fucking forbidden starting now” he declared.

+

“It’s so fucking grungy” Zayn sighed and shivered as he made his way inside the Arts and Performances theatre with the rest of the lads, except Harry.

Zayn looked around, and he realized the ‘theatre’ looked more like a cheap, dirty, and _actually_ grungy pub. There was a bar, manned by some music hipsters— _music students, Zayn_ —and a couple other _artsy_ people, and there were tables dispersed in front of a small stage. The tables looked like they hadn’t been wiped in at least a couple decades.

“I’m gonna die” Louis muttered.

Liam took his hand. “No, you’re not, I promise” he gently said, and then made his way towards the bar and came back with a rag and a spray cleaner, taking care of scrubbing their chosen table until it fucking shone.

Zayn smiled at Louis. “Marry him” he said.

Louis arched an eyebrow. “You fix your attitude and your love life, and then we can talk about mine” he retorted, not unkindly.

Zayn looked around as he sat at the table with the lads, but there was no sign of Harry anywhere, even though Zayn could see his favourite guitar—the one with the _End gun violence_ stickers—propped against a drum set, and the mic on the stand was Harry’s as well, because Zayn had seen that blue mic lying around Harry’s room every time he was there.

Liam and Niall went to the bar and came back with drinks for themselves and Zayn and Louis, and Niall started a soliloquy about how to make a really good Irish Redhead, but he didn’t get to the end of it, because soon enough the lights around the tables dimmed, and the ones on the stage got brighter.

Zayn felt a fastidious thrum in his heart when he finally caught sight of Harry.

His hair was loose and perfect, curling all around his face. He had his omnipresent skinnies wrapped around his long legs, and he was wearing a very flashy shirt in his style, black with flamingos printed all over, and he looked so _Harry_ Zayn kinda felt like crying.

He missed him so much, and it wasn’t just the fucking. No, it _wasn’t_ the fucking at all, it was just _Harry_ , his rumbly voice and his laugh and his lame jokes and the way he stared at Zayn while Zayn told him about this book, that author, that poem. Harry always listened when Zayn talked about his work. And Zayn had never deemed Harry’s work enough to do the same.

“Hello” Harry said in the mic. He was a bit pale, and he was shaking a little, but he hid it by clutching at his guitar. “My name’s Harry Styles, thanks for having me. This first song is called _Two Ghosts_ ”

He started playing right away, backed up by the drummer behind him, and Zayn listened to every single word coming out of Harry’s mouth, because _no_ , that wasn’t something that should be ignored, _ever_. Harry was singing with his eyes closed, and as the first and only time Zayn had watched him actually perform, he was pouring everything he had into those lyrics and those notes. And how could it ever _not_ be difficult, how was it any different from Zayn writing about a fucking 1970’s author?

Harry started by singing really slow, and low, and then his voice grew, until he was shouting the words in the second verse, and Zayn had to blink tears away. _It’s only the first song. How am I gonna survive five of them if you don’t even look at me?_

The song went. Harry seemed to be more confident after the first round of applause and shouts and whistles, and he smiled a little as he took off his guitar and propped it against the wall, going then back to the mic and taking a sip of water. “This song’s called _Medicine_ ” he just said, and started singing again.

_Here to take my medicine, take my medicine_

_Treat you like a gentleman_

_Give me that adrenaline, that adrenaline_

_Think I’m gonna stick with you_

It was like Harry was fucking shapeshifting, for that one. He didn’t look self-conscious anymore, not in the slightest. He just looked sexy, sexier than Zayn had ever seen him, and it was saying something, wasn’t it, since Zayn had seen Harry ride him more times than he could count.

Harry didn’t look at Zayn, but his voice was enough to scramble Zayn’s insides like eggs.

_I had a few, got drunk on you and now I’m wasted_

_And when I sleep I’m gonna dream of how you_

Harry left out something, in that verse, but Zayn could clearly see it in his head like it was written on a sign in front of him. ‘ _Tasted_ ’. Zayn remembered that song, or parts of it, pretty vividly, because Harry had sung some lines of it while he rode Zayn’s dick at the same time, he’d whimpered and whispered the words of the song for him, and it had made Zayn come almost on the spot.

The drummer hit the cymbals, and Harry almost fucked the mic stand when he thrust his hips forward and sang the chorus.

_If you go out tonight, I’m going out ‘cause I know you’re persuasive_

_You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it_

_We're getting dizzy, ah, we're getting dizzy, ah_

_La la la la la_

_You get me dizzy, ah, you get me dizzy, ah_

Zayn shook his head, a chuckle leaving his lips when he realized he was half-hard in his jeans. He also remembered Harry moaning and writhing as he sung while riding him, and Zayn had smirked and asked him, “Are the ‘ah’s part of the song, babe?”. Harry had looked at him in the eyes, and he’d said “They can be if you want ‘em to”. Harry apparently remembered too, because he was practically groaning in the mic, and it was doing one too many _things_ to Zayn’s sanity.

There was a second verse, in which Harry also managed to tell the whole fucking audience that he was gay, which was commendable, if Zayn said so himself, and then.

_I’m coming down, I figured out I kinda like it_

_And when I sleep I’m gonna dream of how you_

“Ride it” Zayn whispered. Harry had left that part out as well, but Zayn remembered when Harry had sung it out loud, just for him.

Another thrust of his hips against the mic stand, and the crowd was screaming, and Zayn had a boner. And it wasn’t even the biggest problem. Zayn was losing his fucking mind, he was torn between wanting to go up the stage and snog Harry in front of everyone to tell them _don’t look at him, he’s mine, he should be mine_ , and just standing up to run and hide.

Harry was fireworks on that stage for the next two songs as well, one of which was called _Sign Of The Times_ while the other was called _Ever Since New York_.

In both songs, Harry managed to whisper, groan and shout, not always in that order, and it was giving Zayn a coronary. The songs were so inherently sad, and Zayn knew Harry had started writing them _before_ even meeting him, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was part of the reason Harry had finished them. Because he’d hurt him, and hurt always makes for excellent songs.

It wasn’t easy, writing songs. It was just that _Harry_ made it look like it was, and Zayn had also taken _that_ for granted.

He stood up. Louis looked at him with a frown, but Zayn just shook his head, his hands shaking. “I can’t listen anymore” he barely managed to say without crying, and then stumbled out the back door, his fingers running to the inner pocket of his jacket to retrieve a cigarette and a lighter.

He took a harsh breath, filled with smoke, as soon as he stepped out. He kept smoking, almost inhaling the whole cigarette in three drags, and from the inside, he could hear Harry speak, the crowd laughing, like he was making jokes, he was so comfortable now.

Zayn could only think that Harry should have been comfortable from the start, and Zayn was supposed to help him, not make him mad and sad. He vaguely heard Harry say something about the next song being the last, and the crowd complaining.

And then Harry started his last song.

_She worked her way through a cheap pack of cigarettes_

_Hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect_

_And all the boys, they were saying they were into it_

_Such a pretty face, on a pretty neck_

_She's driving me crazy_

Zayn probably shouted. His cigarette fell on the ground when he gasped and clutched a hand to his chest, recognizing the song immediately. “Harry?” he whispered to himself, the voice of the shower bloke immediately clicking in his head as _Harry’s_ voice.

_But I’m into it, but I’m into it, I’m kinda into it_

Zayn opened the door and ran back inside, stopping right under the stage, where Harry was raising complete hell. Everybody was up and dancing, and Harry was owning the fucking stage, his hip cocked as he rested a hand on the mic stand.

_It's New York, baby, always jacked up_

_Holland Tunnel for a nose, it's always backed up_

_When she's alone, she goes home to a cactus_

_In a black dress, she's such an actress_

“Harry” Zayn murmured, his legs almost giving up.

_It's getting crazy, I think I'm losing it, I think I'm losing it_

_Oh, I think she said I'm having your baby, it's none of your business_

_I'm having your baby, it's none of your business,_

_it's none of your, it's none of your_

Harry pranced and jumped on the stage, his face red and his dimples digging deep in his cheeks, and then he caught sight of Zayn. Zayn probably looked like an utter mess, the aftermath of the realization that the voice he didn’t forget, the voice of a stranger, was _Harry’s voice_ , the same voice that was able to make him shiver, make him come, make him crazy.

Harry averted his eyes from Zayn, and turned to the crowd again.

_She sits beside me like a silhouette_

_Hard candy dripping on me 'til my feet are wet_

_And now she's all over me, it's like I paid for it_

_It's like I paid for it, I'm gonna pay for this_

Harry moaned that part, like he’d done in the showers weeks and weeks earlier, and Zayn almost came in his pants right there and then. He managed to control himself, and he only stared at Harry while he finished his song, like he’d never even seen Harry before.

And maybe he hadn’t, not like _this_ , not in his element and at his full potential.

It was fucking beautiful.

When the song was done and Harry basked in his audience shouting and clapping, Zayn kept staring at him. Harry realized it, because Zayn could see his eyes darting to him every two or three seconds.

Then, Harry stepped off the stage after shaking hands with the drummer, and he stood right in front of Zayn, with a wicked glint in his eyes, like he wanted to tell him _Speak, I dare you to fucking speak._

And Zayn did.

“It was _you_!” he shouted, lightly pushing at Harry’s chest.

Harry frowned. “Excuse me?” he said, defiantly.

“In the fucking showers!” Zayn said, even louder, and not caring if people were listening. They probably weren’t, because disco music started blasting right that moment, and suddenly everybody was dancing.

Harry looked around, and took in the chaos of the dancing. He rolled his eyes, and then grabbed Zayn by his jacket, dragging him outside the same back entrance Zayn had used to go smoke.

When they were out, in the cold air and with the noises tuned down, Zayn didn’t lose any more time. “It was you in the showers!” he screamed “I’ve had your fucking song about a baby, a cactus and an actress stuck in my mind for weeks! I’ve had your _voice_ in my head for weeks, and it was you!”

Harry’s whole face went a bright shade of red. “Yes!” he shouted back “Yes, it was me, and it was you!”

“What?”

“In the showers! I knew it was you, I recognized _your_ voice as well, that’s why I ran!”

Zayn felt his head start to pulse. “Harry, what the _fuck_ do you mean?”

“I’ve had a crush on you for a whole fucking semester, Zayn!” Harry growled, pushing Zayn into the wall, without any real effort, because Zayn was too astonished to push back, so he went easily “You came into my fucking café in September, and I wasn’t serving tables that day, Jen was, but I heard your voice when you ordered and I saw your stupidly perfect cheekbones and I’ve had a crush on you ever since”

“Harry, what…”

“I’m not finished!” Harry grunted “I had a crush on you. And then you said that thing out loud in the showers, and I’ve had your voice in my head for _months_ , so I recognized you, and I ran because I was too embarrassed that you just listened to me singing my unfinished song. And then Liam got his own crush on Louis, and we all thought, what are the fucking chances, and then Louis said he’d bring you to the party in December and I was almost _dying_ with nerves that night because you were gonna be there, okay? And then you were, like, chill. And you wanted to fuck me. I’m not fucking mental, so I said yes, and we fucked. The thought that you’d even want to see me again was inconceivable for me”

“But I did, Harry” Zayn said “I wanted to see you again. I never texted you because I didn’t wanna admit it. But I did”

“I know” Harry nodded, removing his hands from Zayn’s chest, and sniffling “I know, because then we started fucking regularly, and I wanted more, but you didn’t look like you wanted the same. So I made it be enough for me. But it wasn’t”

“It wasn’t” Zayn nodded, agreeing “I thought it was, for me. But it wasn’t, Harry, I think I fucking fell in love with you. And I’m sorry”

There. It was said, now, and Zayn could only hope it would be enough, this time, because he didn’t have anything else to offer Harry if not his love and his apologies.

Harry laughed, a bit bitterly. “You’re _sorry_? Fuck, Zayn, this is all I ever wanted to hear with _your_ lovely voice” he said, frantically driving his ringed fingers through his hair “But you love having sex with me. You don’t love _me_. Because you hurt me, Zayn. You diminished my work, you think it’s bullshit, but this is the reason I _breathe_ , Zayn. I live to fucking sing, it’s what I wanna do until the day I die, and if you can’t understand that, then you can’t understand _me_ ”

“I do” Zayn said quickly, removing his back from the wall and taking a couple steps towards Harry “I understand it now, Harry. I saw you up there. And it took all I fucking have not to jump on that stage and force you to only look at me while you sang. It was… cathartic, an epiphany, a revelation, all of that, all the fancy things I study in my fucking books. And I don’t wanna be hyperbolic, but you fucking killed me with your voice”

Harry widened his eyes, and Zayn too. Because he always judged the grungies so much, and now there he was, using _hyperbolic_ to mean _himself_ and not a narrative tool.

Harry took a step. “I’m gonna kiss you now, Zayn” he warned “And if you don’t want it to be the first of a long series, because we’re gonna date like proper fucking human beings, then you gotta stop me now” he added, his voice gone low and raspy, and Zayn had already been done for Harry before that.

“I’m not mental, cheers” Zayn replied with a smirk, and Harry shoved him into the wall, and kissed the living daylights out of him.

Zayn didn’t have time to even take a proper breath before Harry was using his open mouth to slip his tongue inside it, licking harshly against Zayn’s own tongue, his big hands engulfing Zayn’s hips, and a low groan stuck in his throat on repeat, making Zayn harder and harder.

“Fuck” Zayn muttered “Fuck, I missed you, I love you, Harry, you’re so… so…”

“So?” Harry smirked, tracing the seam of Zayn’s jeans on his crotch with his palm.

Zayn shivered. “So fucking infuriating” he concluded “I can’t believe I’m in love with a fucking grungy” he added, shoving his tongue inside Harry’s mouth again.

“I can’t believe I’m in love with the mother of all hipsters” Harry replied, rolling his eyes.

Zayn bit down on Harry’s bottom lip. “Say that again, I fucking dare you”

“You’re the ultimate hipster” Harry said surely, with a grin “And I love you”

Zayn didn’t find it in his heart to keep up with the banter, and he just snogged Harry some more.

“You were so fucking good, tonight” he said at last, more seriously, looking at Harry in the eyes “You were _fire_ , babe. It was incredible to watch. And you should do that until the day I die, for me, privately, possibly while riding my dick”

Harry chuckled, and nodded. “Maybe. I’ve got another song I didn’t finish in time for tonight. It’s called _Only Angel_. It’s dirty”

+

“All is well what ends well, am I right?” Niall grinned as they were all just enjoying the sun in the grungy building’s yard.

Harry was lying down in between Zayn’s legs, his head on Zayn’s lap, and he was not so subtly trying to make Zayn pop a boner by just talking slower and lower than normal, when he knew the sounds would reverberate right through Zayn’s crotch.

Zayn was miserably failing to keep his composure, and he was a breath away from just pulling Harry up and dragging him to the first available classroom to bend him over a table and make him put all those grumbles to good use.

“You’re disgusting” Louis said “I preferred you when you were pining for each other”

“I wasn’t pining” Zayn assured.

Harry chuckled. “Sure” he said, dragging the ‘u’.

Zayn started to grow a semi in his jeans, and Harry noticed, because his shit-eating grin didn’t escape Zayn’s attention.

In that moment, Grimshaw passed them by, and he stared at them in utter disgust, murmuring “Freaks” under his breath.

He was awarded with a sequence of five middle fingers, to which he replied with his own, and then off he went.

“I hate that guy” Louis commented “Does he ever shower? Fucking grungies”

“Heeey” Harry rumbled, which didn’t help Zayn _at all_ “We’re not all filthy and dirty”

“You are” Zayn muttered, trying to shift his hips and get some kind of friction.

Harry grinned up at him from where he was still resting his head in Zayn’s lap. “Am I? I think I’m pretty clean, am I not?”

“Nope” Zayn replied, and so did the others.

Zayn frowned at them, because one thing was _Zayn_ saying it, and another was _anybody else._

Louis shrugged. “I can see the boner from here. So, no. Not clean at all. You’re disgusting”

Liam and Niall had a fit of giggles at that, and Zayn decided to ignore them by just bending forward and kissing Harry, upside down.

“They opened a new lab on the upper floor” Harry whispered, rumbled, with his wicked grin in place “Wanna go check it out?”

**Author's Note:**

> The songs mentioned in this fic are: _Kiwi_ , _Medicine_ , _Two Ghosts_ , _Sign of the times_ , _Ever since New York_ by Harry Styles, and Harry Styles's cover of _Ultralight Beam_ by Kanye West.
> 
> This was very long, I apologize for my infinite one shots, although not really, I loved writing this one, hehe.  
> Let me know what you're thinking :)  
> I am also on Tumblr as wont-you-stay-till-the-am.tumblr.com, come hit me up if you wanna talk, I love hearing from you all, guys.  
> Till next time!


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